The Iron Knight: A Pokémon Diamond Nuzlocke
by maycontestdrew
Summary: November didn't want to be a Pokémon Gladiator. But when knights come into her home, threatening to arrest her and her best friend, she has no choice but to learn to use a sword. In other words, meet November: the girl with Darkrai in her shadows and Dialga in her blood; and welcome to Medieval Sinnoh. We have queens, castles, gladiators, swords, and blood. Lots and lots of blood.
1. Prologue

What is in a name?

Some may say that their name is simply a jumble of sounds strung together that they use to identify themselves. Some may say that their name carries meaning to who they are, that their name is a _symbol_ of who they are. Awfully arrogant, if you ask me.

But there are some lads and lasses that see their names as a curse. A scar. A reminder of the pain and heartbreak they have endured - or the pain and heartbreak they have succumbed to.

One of these lasses was named November.

Oh, if only you had met her. A real treat she was. A tongue as sharp as swords, a mind as cruel and cunning as thieves. A heart of fire that was set on storming off to Eterna and changing her name.

If her journey had been so simple, though, there would be no story of it, nay?

And, of course, no journey can be so simple if it starts with spitting in a prince's face, or chasing your blind friend into the desert, or getting arrested by knights. Or becoming a Pokémon Gladiator.

Before we continue, dear friends, I must warn you: this folktale is not for those with gentle hearts. If that is what you want, go find the tale of The Hungry Little Wurmple. Perhaps try Spininark's Web.

For, in this story, there is blood. There is pain. There is suffering.

But there will be love. Laughter. Friendship. Dances. Maybe even some tastefully written glimpses of romance.

Are you ready then, dear friends, to turn forwards the pages and turn back the time to the days of medieval Sinnoh? For the murder and the darkness? For the sand and the blood? For the secrets and the snark? The pirates and gladiators and the oh, so snooty princes with their missing queens?

Then, let's slip into the pages, shall we?

Though, there is one final thing you must know (surely, by now, you _must_ think I'm stalling).

Authors are bastards. They are traitors. And, above all, they are liars.

And, with that in mind, masters and squires, readers and writers, friends and foes, let us begin the tale of November: the girl who only wanted to change her name.

* * *

**Welcome to a nuzlocke story. The rules are simple: **

**1\. You may only catch the first Pokémon you see on each route (unless you have already caught a Pokémon of the same species). **

**2\. Once your Pokémon have 'fainted' in battle, they are considered dead. You can no longer use them. **

**3\. Nickname your Pokémon. **

**For this nuzlocke, I chose to play Pokémon Diamond (then, I remembered that Cynthia and a level 66 Garchomp exist and nearly slapped myself for it). **

**For this story, I have decided to set this story in medieval Sinnoh. Kings, queens, castles, swords, armour, the Psyduck Plague - all of it will be in this story. **

**Will there be death? That's for me to know, and for you to find out. **

**This story is currently rated 'T'. This is due to somewhat explicit (but not too explicit) language, as well as violence. However, I will soon be notching it up to 'M' because I've decided to include an intimate ~love making~ scene (not vulgar, not erotic - classy and metaphorical). Once that is published and the characters do that, the rating will jump up to 'M'. **

**This story is part of an expanded collection of nuzlockes. We are all handling different regions, and I'm in charge of Sinnoh. If you would like links to their stories, let me know - I will be more than happy to link you to them. You can also find them by checking out the 'community' on my profile. **

**Without any further ado, let the pain, heartbreak, tears, and joy of a nuzlocke begin_._**


	2. Chapter I

**Chapter I**

There was nothing more miserable than the smell of trash.

More specifically, upper class trash.

November clawed her way through the tattered mess of ripped clothes and rotten scraps of bread, her bare feet blistering hot against the sand. The cruel battering of the Twinleaf sun was nothing to her; she had grown up with salty sweat falling into her eyes and rolling off her nose, and the dry and sandy breeze that ran stiffly through her hair was so familiar that it was almost comforting. The chapped lips, the tongue that felt as if it was coated in sand – she was used to all of it.

But, despite _years _of scavenging for food, she still hadn't gotten used to the smell of the Twinleaf Wastes. How could she, when the royal family kept adding more and more mounts of trash to the already swelling mountains of garbage and muck? How could she, when the smell of whiskey and spew kept twisting around her, choking the breath out of her lungs?

The whiskey and spew and filth weren't even the worst of it. It was the dead Pokémon carnage, without a doubt, that took the crown.

After all, only Pokémon belonging to the royals were allowed to be buried in The Lost Tower. And Nova knew exactly where all the rest of the villagers' dead Pokémon went – the trash.

Got a dead Glameow? Toss it in the dumpster.

Bidoof got mauled by a bunch of angry Drapions? Chuck it in the garbage.

But, on the bright side of things, the Twinleaf Wastes was where _all _garbage was dumped. Including royal garbage.

In the past few minutes Nova had spent leafing her way through the scraps, she had found some hard bread, a bead of shimmering jewels, shining metals, and even a white rag that she could throw over her ripped tunic. She had even lucked out this time – not only had she found a single fig, but she had somehow found a roll of bread _with _cream. And while the cream was already brown from dirt and grit, Nova knew that, compared to the shrivelled berries she had been eating all week, it would taste like honey.

It was no birthday cake, but it would have to do.

"Getting greedy, are we, scamp?" a sharp voice called out behind her.

Nova didn't turn. She just sunk her hands into the searing sand and garbage, the air thick and hazy in her throat, each breath like drinking in fire.

"Surely, there needs to be a limit for this," the voice continued. "We can't have our _crips_ getting selfish."

_Oh, by Arceus' name, if he says that word again-_

"You don't look like a _crip_, though. You look-"

Nova didn't remember moving. All she remembered was the satisfying crunch as her fist sunk into Prince Volkner's jaw, the sharp crack of her own skin as an electric current clawed up her throat, stinging her cheeks, her temples, her nose-

"Don't you _dare _call us that," she hissed. "Don't you bloody _dare_."

Volker – stupid, lousy, _Prince _Volkner – dragged a hand across his jaw, across the dark spots that were already flushing his skin purple. His Raichu stood between him and Nova, sparks flying from its body, each yellow current lashing so hard at Nova's skin that she could feel her ears ringing, could feel stars in her eyes.

And yet, Nova didn't care about the pain. She didn't care about the throbbing in her head and the blood that spilled into her eyes.

She just wanted that sick bastard to _take it back_.

"Know your place, girl," Volkner said with a scowl. "I come to deliver gifts to your people every bloody week, and you think you have the bollocks to threaten _me_?"

In the morning light, the prince himself glittered like a sun-kissed ocean. The brilliant red of his cloak, the array of polished diamonds and pearls strewed along his tunic – it was almost as blinding as the light that pulsed out of his Raichu.

When the Raichu finally stopped – when Nova could finally feel her breath again as she fell onto her scuffed knees – Volkner reached down and grabbed her by the chin.

"Answer me, girl."

Nova didn't want to answer him. She only wanted to rip his stupidly chiselled face and those horribly sunken blue eyes and pluck out every golden strand from his disgustingly fat head-

As if it could feel the simmering rage within her, Raichu took a threatening step forwards and snarled. Nova let herself crumple, let herself fall into the greasy pile of sludge and crumbs.

"They're not gifts, Your Highness," she muttered. "You bring nothing but leftovers. And the only reason you bring it is because Sinnoh chose your cousin over you to take the throne, and now you have nothing left to do but follow her orders and do the dirty work for her."

Volkner gave her a withering stare. "She was not chosen."

"That's right. She beat your rump so hard in a Pokémon battle that you had no-"

Volker dug his nails into her chin and squeezed. And though the edges of her sight were clouded with shadows, though Nova could feel blood stream down her chin, she didn't utter a sound.

"What's your name, peasant?"

"November."

"November," Volkner repeated, cracking a grin. "_November_. What sort of pathetic name is _that?_"

Nova almost choked a laugh.

At least, for once, he wasn't wrong.

Nova watched him eye her, watched the disgust and coldness and glimmers of pity in his eyes as he dragged his eyes down the mud and blood on her face. She watched him as he turned on his heel and left, his Raichu only steps behind him. She watched him as he stepped on the bread roll she had been holding before – the one with the cream.

And, even as her heart shattered at the thought of having to dig through more Pokémon carnage and dung to find another roll half as good as that looked, she didn't utter a sound.

For she would never, _ever _let them hear her break.

* * *

Twinleaf Town – the town for the blind, deaf, and mute. The town for the handicapped and permanently injured. The town for the sick and the dying.

Or, well, it was _supposed _to be a town. The cottages themselves looked more like prisons than anything with their iron barred windows, red stone walls, and the coils of rusty chain alone the roofs. Paint flaked from the sides of the houses like dead skin, and the stone lining the edges had crumbled to pellets of rock on the ground.

As Nova's feet ghosted the sand, she passed by a few other villagers. Their skin, like hers, was cast in bronze from the heat of the sun, and while some of them had been lucky enough to find tunics, most were stuck with mere loincloths as skirts.

One boy, however, was as pale as the clouds above her. And, as Nova saw him grope the walls around him and stumble from one house to the next, she smiled.

"Barry?" she called out.

She saw him freeze, saw him grin down at his feet. "Nova? That you?"

"How'd you know?"

"You're the only lass here that don't smell like dung."

"How very kind of you, good sir-"

"You smell more like piss."

Nova didn't bother sticking out her finger in the air. After all, he wouldn't see it – he _couldn't _see it.

It was just one of the many struggles of being Blind Boy Barry.

"You need help going anywhere?" Nova asked him.

Barry shrugged. "Nah, lass. I'll be 'right. Don't you worry 'bout a thing."

Truth be told, Nova _was _worried. She had always caught Barry crawling his way through the sand, cursing and spitting as he tried to find the sharp little twigs Nova had buried in the ground for him. They were supposed to be marks so that he could find his way home, but by Arceus' name, sometimes he came back with his hands so torn up that he couldn't tell the difference between a stick and a grain of sand.

Worse yet, his grin was lopsided and smug. And Nova just _knew _that meant trouble.

"You still there, Nova?"

"I'm still here, Barry."

He frowned. "I'll be _fine_. Go enjoy yer birthday. I'll be bringing yer gift in two shakes of a Shinx's tail. Save me some sweetmeats, will you? Did you find anything good?"

Nova glanced down at the white cloth in her hands, at the torn crust, the small sprouts of rosemary, and the sand sprinkled over all of it.

"I found a full cake, Barry. It's got white cream all over it, and there are pink swirls-"

"What does pink look like, again?"

Nova moved towards him and brushed a thumb against his cheek. Then, she reached for his hand and pressed her lips against it.

"It looks like hope," she whispered against the back of his hand. "And feels like a kiss."

"Oh, stop it, lass. You're making me cheeks go green."

"Red, Barry. Green means disgust, remember?"

"Of course I remember. That's why I said it, dunce. Now get yer stinky rump away from me."

Nova laughed as he shoved her away. She held the white sheet and stale bread to her chest and ran across the scudded path, the wind howling in her ears as she flew down the sandy hill and straight into her home.

As always, the second she threw open the door, dust clouded her face. She had always hated her home, hated the torn paint and broken furniture. There were chairs without legs, cupboards with doors, windows without glass – like a body with no soul.

"Mother?" she called out, her voice ever so soft against the creaking of the floorboards. "I'm home."

That's when she heard the uneven breaths, the sniffling and the choking sobs.

Which only meant one thing.

Mother was crying.

_Oh, no- _

Nova dropped the bread and raced towards the sofa, towards the battered floral designs and the fraying cushions. She could already see her mother, curled along the thin fabric, shaking as she sniffed and howled into her sleeves.

And the _smell_.

It was thick and sour and warm and Nova just _knew _that there was only one thing that made her mother cry-

_Oh, no, no, no, no-_

Sure enough, there was a wet patch on her mother's skirt. A wet patch on the sofa.

Her mother had soiled herself. Again.

"I'm sorry," her mother whispered. "I tried to hold it-"

Nova waved away the apology, waved away the pain in her mother's eyes.

"It's okay, Mother. Let's get you changed."

As she helped her mother limp over to their stash of clothes to the side, as she helped her mother navigate her way through a corset, Nova nearly reached out and ripped her own hair out of her skull.

She had been so _stupid_. She shouldn't have spent so long in the Twinleaf Wastes, should have remembered that her mother would need to use the loo. But, by Arceus' name, it was her _birthday_, and all she had wanted was just a few hours to herself.

A few hours were too much, though. Especially when her mother had a bladder the size of a Bidoof's snout. Especially when said mother couldn't walk.

And, if she couldn't even spend hours away from her home, how the _hell _was she supposed to march off to Eterna and get her name changed? That would take _days_, at the very least, and there was no chance that her mother would be able to find herself food, find herself water, get herself to the Arceus-damned _toilets_.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

All her life, she had dreamed about turning eighteen and changing her name to something that wasn't as stupid as _November_.

And now-

"Did you find any cake?" her mother asked.

Nova shook her head and helped her mother limp back over to the sofa. "No. But I found bread crusts. Only stale by maybe a week."

"Sounds like a feast for a queen."

They exchanged limp, heartless grins. Then, after tucking a few bits of crust away for Barry, they dug their way through the bread.

It was stale and heavy in Nova's mouth, all bitter and dense. And though she knew that it was just a lump of bread, a lump of baked dough that had done nothing to her, she felt sick.

Today was her birthday. Today was the day she was supposed to change her name.

And she couldn't.

"November?" her mother said through a mouthful of bread. "What are you thinking of?"

Nova forced down yet another chunk of crust. "Nothing. I'm just enjoying the bread."

"You're lying."

"How would you know?"

Her mother smiled softly, her dark eyes as black as a midwinter night. "The bread tastes like garbage. You can't possibly be enjoying it."

Nova almost laughed at that. Almost.

"I was just thinking," she said, "I'm eighteen now. And I know you named me with love and all, but did you _have _to name me-"

A sharp rap on the door made them both flinch.

Surely, it couldn't be Barry – she had _just _seen him wandering towards the outskirts of Twinleaf. Could it have been knights, chains in hand, ready to arrest her for attacking Prince Volkner? Could it have been Prince Volkner himself, Raichu beside him, ready to slice her throat open with a sword?

Nova felt her blood turn cold at the thought.

Whoever it was, she had to hide. She had to hide _now_.

But, before she could even leap onto her feet, the door was shoved open. And, on the other side, Nova saw that it was neither Prince Volkner nor the knights.

It was Barry's mother.

Beads of water fell down her cheeks, and she tried to mumble – tried to say something – but all that came out was a muffled sob.

"I can't find him…" she whispered, rubbing at the watery snot that streaked down her nose. "I've been looking everywhere and… I can't…"

Nova didn't need her to finish. One look at her bloodshot red eyes told her enough.

Barry was in trouble.


	3. Chapter II

**Chapter II**

Plumes of sand erupted from the ground with each step Nova took. She scrambled over the uneven ground, over the treeless hills and sand-filled hollows. Her feet stung as she climbed over tors capped with broken granite, and by Arceus, she almost couldn't see anything apart from the golden earth around her.

But she kept running, dragging her legs against the wind.

She couldn't stop. Barry was counting on her.

Her lips were cracked from thirst by the time she heard the scream. It tore through her like a great shard of glass – all raw and hysterical and garbled. A scream of pain. A scream of despair.

Nova swallowed down the itch in her throat and ran after the voice, ignoring the thick stink and the awful heat and the trundling sway of the wind. She only passed by a single person – some old man in a long frock coat with a cravat knotted so tight that Nova couldn't help but wonder if he, too, could feel the heat.

"Out of the way!" she cried out.

He fell into his own shadow as Nova shoved past him, tumbling into the sandstone bluffs. With a snarl, he squinted up at the sun and Nova.

"My balls!" he hissed. "Lass, you made me lose my-"

"Aye," she snapped. "If you think that it only takes bollocks to survive this desert, then good bloody luck to you."

She didn't stop to hear him curse. She only kept running, spying a glance at him through the corner of her eye. The old man was burying his hands into the sand, shaking his head as he scooped up something round, something red and white and-

_A Pokéball? _

Before she could even stop to stare, she saw something whiz out of the sunlight.

No – not something.

Lots of somethings.

A hail of Starlys rained down on Nova, punching their way through the whipping sand. Nova felt the sand around her shift, felt a howl escape her own throat as she sank down onto the ground. And though the birds were cawing into her ears and the spraying sand hissed around her, she could still hear a distant cry – a cry that was all too familiar.

Barry.

Through the ambush of feathers and sand, she could see dozens of Starly circling around a boy. Their feathers were dark and sandy, and some of them were crouched around Barry's face, pecking into his cheeks. Others were hunkered near his throat, clawing at his skin as he wailed and cried and roared, scarlet bubbles bursting from his mouth, his blood nothing but a smudge in the sand-

Oh, Arceus.

Those Starly were going to _kill _him.

"Stinking son of a whore," Nova swore, tearing herself away from the few Starlys that had swarmed at her face. Sand assailed her eyes, and for a moment, she was blindly creeping her way through the sand, moving by feel alone.

Then, she hit a stone.

And, just like that, Nova was rolling back down the hill, sand breathing into her clothes and nose and hair.

When she pulled herself up and blinked away the sand, Nova felt her heart squirm.

The Starly that had been pursuing her were gone. But the Starly around Barry-

Through the sand, she could still see a blur of coffee black and milky white surrounding her friend's dark shape. He was staggering, wobbling his way through the sand, tumbling yet again as a Starly pierced through his shoulder with its beak.

Nova cursed.

There was no way she could single-handedly wave away dozens of feral Starly. There was no way-

Unless-

_Unless-_

Nova was off again, groping her way up the rocky slope, moving by feel and sound alone. She listened out for the screeches of the Starly, the whipping of the wind, the whispering of the old man. And she made her way towards the latter.

She found the man clad in grey leathers in no time, his fingers still running through the sand.

"Did you find your balls?" she asked him.

He arched his brow. "Which ones are you talking about this time?"

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I found one," he admitted, raising a single Pokéball to his face. "Two to go."

"I'll help you, then."

Nova stabbed her fingers into the sand, searching and searching, her shadow rippling in the sunlight, her stomach running cold at the thought of being too late, at the thought of Barry being left in the sand to rot, at the thought of not being able to find those damned Pokéballs-

_There._

Her fingers felt something cold. Something metallic.

She clawed at the sand and almost grinned at her luck.

Not only had she found one Pokéball_. _She had found _both_.

The old man drew a breath and stretched his hand out to her. "My blessings are with you, lass," he said. "If I had lost these-"

Nova felt her heart writhe as she pulled her hands back and shook her head.

"Sorry, old snot. This is only going to hurt a little."

Then, she took a handful of sand and blew it into his face.

And though she felt remorse bubble up her throat, Nova didn't pause.

She just kept running.

* * *

By the time she had reached Barry again, there were even _more _Starly than before, their beaks pressed against his squirming body, their feathers stained dark with his blood.

Nova couldn't imagine what Barry could _possibly _have done to make them this feral.

Perhaps they knew he was vulnerable because he couldn't see. Perhaps he had accidentally destroyed their nest.

_Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps_.

Nova didn't waste time thinking on it. Instead, she threw the Pokéballs out from her hand and watched as light streamed from them and melted into the sand. Two Pokémon came out – one with dark blue feathers around its crown and beak and flippers, and one with yellow feet, patches of orange fur, and fire _literally _burning from its tail.

The pair of them looked at her. Nova only returned their stare.

"Well?" she said. "What are you waiting for? You're _Pokémon._ Break their wings. Eat their feet._ Do _something."

This time, the two Pokémon glanced at the Starly before turning back to Nova.

Then, they burst into hysterical tears.

Nova felt her stomach twist as the Pokémon sniffed and wailed into the sand, as they stumbled onto their feet and fell back when a gust of wind gently breezed past them.

Oh, Mother of Arceus.

They were _babies_.

"Oh, bloody hell," Nova hissed as one of them – the small monkey with the swirl on its chest – latched onto her leg. "Get _off_. If you aren't going to do something, _I _will."

She flung the Pokémon away from her leg and raced towards Barry and the Starly, only pausing for a second to snatch a stone from the sand. She threw it, holding her breath as it arced over Barry and crushed a Starly square on the head.

The other birds twisted around, crying out bloody murder. Spit flew out of Nova's mouth as she strode towards the mob and kicked sand into their eyes, the wind whistling in time with her heart as she slapped one of the Starlys away from Barry's knee and watched it fall to the ground with a throaty bellow.

And, with a gurgle, another Starly fell onto the sand as Nova slipped up to meet it with her fist.

That's when the other Starly – all remaining fourteen of them – attacked.

They reached out with their sharp talons, their shadows sluggish in the sand, swinging their beaks about her face. One particular bird pecked Nova at her ankles, and the others weaved close as she lost balance, as she toppled backwards and felt a blow to the back of her head.

Warm blood dribbled down her neck as she reeled back in the sand, another Starly already on her, its beak cracking across her rib as she tried to roll aside.

And though she rolled – though she even managed to kick out with her foot – she couldn't bring herself to stand up. One was already pecking at her head so hard that she felt as if her skull was caving in, and another was smashing its beak into her chin so quickly that she could only gasp in agony as she tasted sweat and blood and her own dirty breath.

She was going to die here. With Barry. With a hoard of Starly watching. With embers of crackling fire and streams of bubbles soaring in the air-

_Wait_.

Embers?

_Bubbles? _

What in the-

"_Chiiim_!"

She could only stare as a yellow fist punched a Starly in the face – once, twice, and enough to send the bird flying back with a ragged cry. The small monkey puckered its lips, and out from its mouth slipped a ripple of flames, twisting and rolling over the Starly.

Most of the birds screamed and fled, and those that remained were soon choking on their own breaths as the small blue Pokémon barrelled into them, mumbling something that sounded a lot like, "Piplu!"

Nova paused to catch her breath. Paused to stare at the two baby Pokémon in utter amazement.

Good Arceus, these _babies _had saved her rump. And Barry-

She crawled over to her friend and ran a hand through his pale, blonde hair, surveying him. His red hands. His gritted teeth. The blood on his mouth.

But he was breathing. He was alive.

"Barry," Nova said. "What the _hell _were you _thinking_?"

Barry winced. "They pecked at me bollocks, Nova. It wasn't a fair fight."

The two small Pokémon clambered up to her and Barry, but Nova ignored them. Instead, she moved her hands against the cut on Barry's head, pressing it, hoping desperately that it wasn't as deep as it looked.

"Ow, Nova, ow, that hurts like a mother-stinking-"

"Shut up, will you?" Nova cut in. "Why did you even come here, Barry? You know we're not allowed out of Twinleaf."

Barry scoffed. "Not _we. I'm _not allowed out of Twinleaf. I'm the crip, Nova. Not you. You're just here because you're looking after your mother."

"Barry, don't-"

"Can _you _shut yer trap for a second?" Barry snapped. "Hear me out. You're always yappin' on about changing yer name. About hauling yer rump to Eterna. But you can't do that without yer own Pokémon. I thought I could catch you somethin' good. I thought…"

Nova couldn't bear to listen to him go on.

He had done all of this for _her_. Because he wanted her to get out of Twinleaf.

But she wasn't the only one with that dream. She knew – she had known since they were wee little babes – that Barry had a dream of his own. A dream to become a warrior, or even a knight. But now-

"Is yer face red, Nova?"

"Why would it be red?"

"You told me it was the colour of anger."

Nova closed her eyes and reached for Barry's hand. Squeezed it.

"Aye," she said. "But it's also the colour of love."


	4. Chapter III

**Chapter III**

"I think I like this- _ow_. It _bit _me finger!"

"Barry, you touched his tail."

"That don't mean that it should bite me bloody finger!"

Nova sighed and pulled the fire-monkey away from Barry. "It didn't bite you. You touched his tail, and his tail is literally on fire."

The pair of them, along with the two Pokémon that Nova had 'forgotten to return', were lying quietly in Nova's home. Barry had kept his swollen eyes shut, his wheezing breaths louder than his voice as Nova lowered him onto a small concrete cot – her bed. Despite the long scratches down her arms and legs, Nova didn't dare join him; with the thin mattress and rust stained metal frame, she wasn't even sure that it could handle _both _of their weights.

Not that there was much weight to handle, anyways. Hell, Nova was almost certain that the fire-type in her arms and the water-type lying beside Barry were probably heavier than her head and hips combined.

Barry's bleeding had slowed to a trickle, and with the help of her mother, Nova had stretched white cloth from his fingertips to his shoulders, neck, and forehead. Meanwhile, Barry's mother was already heading towards the Twinleaf Wastes, on the hunt for more fabric to use on the raw pink gashes along Nova's arms.

"I still think I like the green one better."

From the side of the room, Nova's mother laughed. "It's a Piplup, Barry," she said. "And it's blue."

"Blue, green, whatever. At least it don't be burning me fingers, like little chimney here."

"_Chimchar_," Nova corrected. "Now, can you please promise to never do something stupid like that again? Did you _seriously _think that throwing a loincloth at a Starly would keep it still?"

Barry shrugged. "I never said it was going ta' be bloody perfect."

"That's the issue. You never _said _anything. You could have at least told us that you were going to try catching some Pokémon."

"Not this lecture again. Lady Vernia, some support?"

November's mother only smiled softly. "You're alone on this one, Barry. Besides, why did you want to catch Pokémon in the first place? We're not allowed to leave Twinleaf. There's no point."

"But Nova is allowed, isn't she? She's not a…"

He trailed off, but Nova knew the word – the _words _– that were resting at the tip of his tongue.

_Freak. Handicap. _

_Crip. _

"Nova?" Vernia said. "Did you _want _to go somewhere?"

Nova felt her heart race as she found her mother's gaze. Though her mother was only just reaching forty, everything about her screamed old – her withered brown hands, her long hair that hung like a limp curtain of silver, her voice that was as thick and hoarse as sandpaper.

Even with a Pokémon, she couldn't leave her mother. Not now. Not ever.

But she couldn't lie to her, either. Not forever.

"Aye," she said softly. "I wanted to go."

The silence screamed in Nova's ears as Vernia deflated on the torn settee. "You never told me."

"There was no need to. I'm not leaving you, Mother."

"November-"

Nova was almost relieved to hear the sharp rapping on the door. It was far better than the thick and heavy silence that choked the room, and now that Barry's mother was here, she could finally press some swathes of cloth onto her stinging arms-

Except, it wasn't Barry's mother at all.

Instead, the voice called out from behind the door, "Canalave Knights here. We are looking for a young girl with long black hair and blue eyes. Brown tunic. White blouse. No shoes or stockings."

And, just like that, Nova felt her heart sink to her feet.

Volkner really _had _sent knights after her for spitting in his face. And now-

_Oh, Arceus. _

"Sorry, mateys," Barry called out. "Wrong estate. Me wife and I ain't got no kids."

"We're coming in to inspect."

There was a squeal of the door. Nova swore.

"Wait!" Barry cried out again. "I ain't decent! Give me five teensy minutes. A lad gotta wear his britches before meetin' with the folks of Canalave. Especially if their faces be as pretty as that young lad, Sir Riley."

Nova heard the knights outside drop their voices to a whisper. Heard them snort and snicker at how stupid 'those bloody crips' were.

If only they knew. If only.

"Fine," a knight said. "We give you five minutes. Hurry up and put on your britches."

Nova was almost too scared to find her breath. Instead, she glanced down at the two Pokémon beside her, wondering if there was any chance that they could fend the knights off with their bubbles and embers, whether they would be able to fight whatever Pokémon the knights carried by their side-

"November," her mother said. "You need to get out of here. Take the Pokémon and _go_."

"Mother, I-"

Vernia yanked Nova towards her and cradled her face. "Barry and his mother will look after me. I'll be _fine_."

"You're _my_ responsibility – not Barry's."

"And I'm _your _mother. Your happiness is _my _responsibility."

They stared at each other then, eyes as rich as the sand locked with eyes as silver as the sea. A silent plea in one. A silent promise in the other.

"Go, Nova," Vernia whispered. "And _never_ come back to this hellhole."

Tears were already shining in Nova's eyes, threatening to spill in trickling lines and streak through the caked dirt on her face.

But there was no time for tears.

"The Piplup is all yours, Barry," she said, giving the water-type one last pat on the head. "Look after her."

"Lass, you know I don't need it."

Nova reached out and squeezed Barry's hand. "You deserve it."

"Nova-"

"Besides, what are you going to do next time a mob of Starlys attack you? Hope that Sir bloody Riley will come and save your rump?"

Barry laughed and raised his hands in surrender. "Oh, please, will you get outta here already?"

With a roll of her eyes, Nova turned to her mother. Her mother who was smiling through her tears. Her mother who was laughing as Chimchar pounced onto Nova's head.

"I love you," Nova said. "I'll be back. I promise."

_Once I change my name. Once I am no longer November._

"Go wherever the sands take you, my lass," Vernia finally replied. "Go. Dance with the winds."

And so, with a final pat of her own head to make sure Chimchar (and his bloody _hot _tail) was still clinging onto her hair, Nova ran towards the back of the cottage. She raced towards the windows with their iron bars and thick glass.

"Any ideas, Chimchar?" she asked.

The fire-monkey grinned.

For there was something that he knew that Nova was just about to learn. Something that would, without a doubt, help her in the journey to come. Something that would prove that the iron bars along the windows were _nothing_ against a small, little Chimchar.

_Fire is super effective against steel. _

* * *

"The girl in the white! Stop her!"

Two knights were already waiting by the window, their kevlar and iron armour clanking as Nova rushed past them. Another one, only metres away, held up his hand to stop her, but Chimchar's teeth flashed and out came the embers, burning through his armour. The man gasped and fell, tumbling into another knight, his shortsword twisting into the sand.

"Get her! She's broken the commandments!"

Nova almost rolled her eyes.

_There's a commandment for spitting in a prince's face? _

Other villagers from Twinleaf cried out in alarm as Nova moved past them, and as flames flew out of Chimchar's mouth, it all dissolved into chaos. Chimchar scratched one knight in the face as he made a grab for Nova, and the girl ducked and rolled past the whistling blades above her, kicking out at a pair of legs before scrambling to her feet.

She tore across the sands, away from the knights' snatching hands, until she could see a teenage boy staring back at her. His dark blue hair was tossed around wickedly by the wind, barely kept in place with the dark blue hat he wore, and though his tunics and britches were laced with blue and gold, he was sitting atop a wagon. A wagon tied to two Rapidash.

Just the sight was enough to send Nova's legs pumping quicker, harder.

_A chariot driver. _

It was almost too good to be true. They almost _never _came to Twinleaf – there was no one there who could offer them any money, nor was there anyone who _needed _to go anywhere.

Until today.

"Are you alright, Miss?" he called out.

Nova glanced behind her, at the knights – four of them – that were raising their bows and arrows towards her and the Chimchar on her head.

"Do I look al-bloody-right?" she snapped back.

She saw his eyes, then, as his gaze ran over her. They were as calm as the sky before the storm, but as wild as the sea during one; as bright as sapphires, but as dull as the soft blue swirls of paint along his chariot. Everything and nothing, all at once.

And, finally, that bright blue gaze of his found the knights behind her. The shortswords and daggers and spears aimed at her.

Sure enough, he swore.

"Keep running!" he yelled.

"Oh, aye, you reckon?"

A whistling sound by her ear was enough to send her barrelling straight into the carriage. She saw one of the arrows splinter the wood of the chariot, saw one of them sail over Chimchar's head, and heard the boy hiss as he hauled her into the carriage.

"Did you get shot?" he asked her.

"Just bloody drive, you dunce!"

And he did. Though he didn't whip at the Rapidash's flanks, he just nodded at the two fire horses. They bolted at once, their hooves kicking in the sand, roaring and neighing as more crossbow bolts flew past their hands. Not just crossbow bolts – stones and sparks of electricity and sharp leaves were all ramming into the carriage, and though Nova didn't turn, she just _knew _the knights had sent out their Pokémon.

Which meant that they were screwed.

The driver reached into his greatcoat and pulled out two small crossbows. Then, with his back towards Nova and Chimchar, he took two swift shots.

Neither hit the knights or their Pokémon. Rather, they fell into the sand, inches away from the knights – inches away from tearing through a Graveler's heart.

Nova expected the knights to be furious. She expected them to run faster, to send a flying-type after them, to aim their own arrows towards her heart.

Instead, though, the knights backed off. Froze in their tracks. Limped back to Twinleaf.

Just like that.

"So, what's your name, lass?" the driver asked.

Nova stared at him. At his ruffled hair. His lopsided grin.

Then, she laughed.

"You bloody… How on… Arceus, why do you carry a _crossbow_ with you if you're a chariot driver?"

"I didn't hear you complaining when I saved your rump."

"I'm not complaining. I'm only enquiring."

The driver clucked his tongue at the Rapidash, and the flames along their back dwindled into mere embers as they slowed into a gallop.

"The name's Lucas," he told her. "I wouldn't mind if you called me The Saviour of the Sands, though."

Nova reached out and shook his gloved hand. "November."

"Last name?"

"No last name. I'm from Twinleaf."

He nodded. "And what did you do to those knights to make them so angry, November?"

"Spat at Prince Volkner."

"Did he deserve it?"

"Nay, I just spat in his face because I wanted to be chased by knights."

Lucas laughed – a short, sharp laugh. "And I suppose that's the same reason you stole the Chimchar?"

"Aye. Nothing gets me more riveted than the threat of bloody execution-"

_Wait. _

Nova froze as the boy clung to the reins, guiding the stallions away from the sands and towards a path of marble and mossy granite. She could smell the sea salt of the ocean, could hear the cry of gulls, could feel the bitter wind of the sea slap at her face.

He was taking her towards the Sandgem Beaches.

But that wasn't her concern.

_How did he know the Chimchar was stolen? _

She felt for Chimchar, felt him shudder as he moved away from her shoulder and into her arms. His tail was like a warm trickle against Nova's chest, and he was looking at her, warning her, urging her-

That's when Nova realised that there was something very, _very _wrong about this chariot driver.

He _still _hadn't asked her for money yet.

A chill stole over Nova, dark and hollow, and goosebumps rippled along her bloodied skin as she looked down at the ground.

It was going to hurt. But it was going to be worth it.

Or, at least, that's what she told herself as she leapt off the chariot.

The plan had been simple: jump and run.

She hadn't counted on Chimchar shooting one last cheeky grin at Lucas before spitting fire at the chariot.

The flames immediately burst around the cart, dancing and leaping hungrily for Nova, and through the crackling of fire, she could hear the snapping of leather, could see the reins flying out of the driver's hands. Both Rapidash went flying, screaming as they threw off the leather bounds around them and darted back into the sands.

Nova was tempted to race after them. But she felt far too light in the head, and she felt like she was swimming in agony and pain as she forced herself onto her feet. Even Chimchar was panting beside her, sweat clinging to his brow.

And though part of her blood screamed at her to get the hell away from the crackling flames that was sending ash and cold grey cinders flying into her face, she couldn't help but move towards the chariot. Towards the driver's seat.

"Lucas?" she called.

The flames grew ravenous as Nova approached, licking at her skin, enough to send her eyes stinging with tears. But still, she crawled through the drops of yellow and red heat that blackened her fingers, her heart choking her throat as she and Chimchar moved around the burning wood, desperately hoping that the boy was okay, that she hadn't _killed _him.

She didn't find him anywhere.

What she did find, though, was far, far worse.

She found a shield, rusted and scratched, carvings of blue spheres in the very centre. She found a bow made of wood beside a quiver of arrows, all feathered and dark with blood.

And, worst of all, she found a suit of metal. A helmet of steel. Polished and hard in the chest and legs, vulnerable and soft in the silver gloves. Cuts and scrapes and dents in the armour. Glass shards sticking out from beneath the boots.

Oh, Arceus.

_And I suppose that's the same reason you stole the Chimchar?_

This fellow was no chariot driver.

He was a _knight. _

Before Nova could even stumble back, she felt a breath behind her neck. Saw a shadow – tall and slim – fall over her own.

And, as she looked down, she saw vines writhe and wriggle from the stone beneath her feet, creeping along her ankles, bounding her legs to the ground.

Chimchar hissed and fell to the floor, tugging and tugging at the vines, crying out as one whipped him on the face and sent him hurtling onto the stone path.

"Good work, Torterra."

Nova didn't bother turning her head towards the voice. She just kept her gaze locked onto Chimchar, watching as he curled into a ball and wailed.

She should have known it was a trap, dammit. She should have _known_.

"Let me guess," she said to the boy behind her. "You're a knight. And I'm in shits."

Lucas chuckled, his lips dangerously close to her ear as he murmured, "Oh, aye, you reckon?"


	5. Chapter IV

**Chapter IV**

"So, is your name actually Lucas? Or was that just part of your disguise?"

"Very funny, November."

"I wasn't joking."

Lucas sighed. "You see, this is why I prefer Pokémon over people. Pokémon don't make unnecessary noise."

The pair of them, with Torterra securely back in a Pokéball and Chimchar balancing on Nova's head, moved along the swooping coastline that curved gently as it arced along the sand. There were many times Nova wished she hadn't gotten rid of the Rapidash carriage; the fingers of barnacled rock poked into her feet, and the rocky outline that she and Lucas were following was growing blacker and blacker against the orange-kissed sky.

But, with her gaze fixed on the sheen of silver along the water that lapped up against the rocks, Nova trudged forwards.

"How piss-poor can your name possibly be?" she asked the boy beside her. "Mine is _November_, for Arceus' sake. It can't be worse than that."

Lucas paused and gave her a sharp glance, tightening his grip on the metal helmet in his hands.

"Wait," he said. "You _seriously _don't know who I am?"

Nova stopped to stare at him, at his tousled dark hair, at his eyes that shone blue and silver in the moonlight and his lips that were drawn into a hard line. His angular jaw. His slight tan. The loose silk blouse that stuck out from beneath his armour. Surely, there must have been something familiar about him if he were to say that, something that she would recognise-

"_Oh_," Nova said suddenly. "I know you. You're the blasted nonce who is being an annoying piece of shit and is trying to arrest me. How could I forget?"

Lucas rolled his eyes. "You know, I think I'm starting to like you. Maybe if you tell me another joke, I'll change my mind about arresting you."

"Really?"

"No."

With Chimchar sighing dramatically in her ear, Nova turned away from the boy and back towards the rocks. Even though she was being led to possible death – hell, even though she was bracing herself for Volkner's smug grin – she decided that she loved the route towards Sandgem.

The sand was the gentlest hue of gold, all mute and soft, rather than dark and rough, as it was in Twinleaf. And, of course, Sandgem didn't smell like garbage at all – it smelt like seaweed and salty waves and the warmth of summer. Her favourite, though, was the tall grass within the rolling dunes that whispered in the gusting breeze.

She had never felt grass before. She had never felt anything other than sand.

"Do you actually know nothing of the knights?" Lucas asked suddenly. "What _do _you know?"

"I know Sir Riley."

Lucas arched his brow. Nova shrugged.

"Okay, well, I don't _know _him," she confessed. "I know _of _him. Hell, I don't even know what he looks like. I just hear all the stories – you know, he's a very attractive lad, enough to make panties and underthings melt, travels with a Lucario, became a knight when he was only eight, and now he's the Knight on High. And he's not even twenty."

For a second, Lucas almost looked impressed. Then, he frowned, saying, "He was _not _eight when he became a knight. He was fourteen."

"Oh, don't tell me you're one of his worshippers, too. I thought Barry was enough."

"Not a worshiper."

"A lover, then?" Nova wiggled her brows. "Does he make _your _panties melt?"

When Lucas didn't answer, Nova snorted.

"Oh, Arceus, he _does _make your panties-"

"Oh, shut up, will you? We're here, and if you keep talking like that, you'll draw too much attention."

Sure enough, Nova could feel the grass beneath her turn into pebbles as her feet moved over them. As she sucked in the salty air, she could see huts lying ahead – certainly bigger than the brick sheds she had in Twinleaf, and the driftwood was painted over in bright yellows and reds. And even though most of the paint was peeling and curling away from the huts, and the metal knobs and padlocks were rusted over, Nova could only stare.

At least they had paint over their homes. At least they had padlocks on their doors.

"I'm going to put my headdress on, now," Lucas told her, gesturing at the iron helmet in his hands. "Don't do anything foolish – I can still see you."

Chimchar chattered something into Nova's ear, but she ignored him. Instead, she trained her gaze onto the knight.

"You've come so far without a helmet on," she pointed out. "Why wear it now?"

"Do you know why people wear masks, November?"

"So that young maidens don't see that they have bloody smallpox?"

Lucas smiled as he lowered the helmet onto his head.

"No," he said. "It's because they don't want to be recognised."

* * *

The sky had long since darkened from bleak grey to a familiar black by the time they moved into Sandgem. Even then, Nova could see a golden blanket outline the silver sea, and without the heat of the sun beating down on them, she couldn't help but shiver as the wind whipped around her and cut through the stitches of her clothing.

Worse yet, each step she took felt like a step towards her own death.

Chimchar was gripping tightly onto her hair, shaking with each of his breaths. Even Lucas had gone completely silent, his metal glove tightly wrapped around her wrist.

If it weren't for his hand, Nova would have turned back on her heels every time the shadow of a villager leaked across the path, moving towards the faint, tinny sounds of a nearby tavern. They had only passed a few people – mostly drunk men lost under the swirl of music and harlots who raised their heavily made up eyes at Nova, making the fire-monkey on her head shrivel up and hiss.

And even though Nova could hardly see their smug smiles behind the spiralling hazy clouds of their pipe smoke, she worked out one thing very, _very _quickly: the people of Sandgem liked to _party_.

There were little fires crackling all over the beaches, and people danced around them, twisting and curling their arms, moving with the rhythm of the flames with every dip and sweep. It was mesmerising to watch; colours of orange and red gave way to yellow and white as the villagers hooted and laughed, as they swung their hips and swayed their heads to their own songs.

Only one person – an old woman with a hunched back and a cloak ridden over her face – stood away from the music. Her withered hands reached out for Nova as she passed, scratching at her arm.

"Hello, pretty, pretty," the old woman croaked. "Heading for the whorehouse, are ye?"

Chimchar spat the smallest of embers at her. The old crone tipped her head back and laughed.

And though Nova was almost relieved as Lucas yanked her away from the old woman, she felt trepidation swell in the gut at the sight of the big, wooden cottage she was being led towards. At the smoke that swirled in an array of blues, acid greens, angry pinks, and gold. At the harlots who were whispering as she passed them.

"Here?" Nova blurted out. "Why are you taking me into a whorehouse?"

Lucas shrugged. "It wasn't my idea."

"It was Volkner's idea, wasn't it? He wants to sell me here."

"Don't mention Volkner."

"And why the hell wouldn't I mention Volkner?"

Lucas turned towards her and grabbed her shoulders, his eyes sharp. "He's not the reason you were arrested," he told her. "I came after you because you stole from Duke Rowan. The knights know nothing of you and Volkner, nor do they know about you burning the carriage yet. So don't mention the carriage, and _definitely _don't mention Volkner."

And before Nova could even question him – before she could even mutter a quick _thank you_ – Lucas dragged her and Chimchar through the doors.

The first thing she saw was smoke twisting around the room, forming curls in the sallow light of the torches. There were men and women everywhere, stumbling around the red carpets, smelling like stale ale and Rapidash dung.

Lucas winded Nova through the warm bodies, through the many barrels of ale, and into a small room towards the back. And there, Nova saw rough wooden splinters along the walls, shards of black paint crumbling to the floor, a dirty cloud of tobacco smoke, and three men.

It only took Nova seconds to recognise one of the men; with the wrinkles as deep as wooden carvings, the bright eyes framed by white brows, and the whiskers over his stubbled cheek, he could only have been the man she had found in the sand. The man who she had stolen Chimchar from.

"Ah," he said. "The knight finally arrives with the thief."

Nova felt Chimchar loosen his grasp on her hair, heard him chatter excitedly.

"Chimchar," she warned, "_don't-_"

Before she had the chance to utter another word, the Chimchar was leaping and bounding across the wooden tables and chairs and barrels. Straight into the old man's arms.

Nova glared at the fire-monkey, even as it blew a kiss towards her.

_Traitor_.

That's when she saw the other two men – well, _boys. _One with red ringlets flying from his head, dull and coarse as straw. And one with wild blonde hair, balled up on a chair like his hands were locked to his knees, his eyes fixed to nothing at all, and a cloth shoved into his mouth.

And Nova would have recognised the dirt over his rags _anywhere_.

_Barry. _

"Why is my friend here?" Nova demanded.

The old man frowned and gestured over to the corner of the room, where a small blue penguin was choking and spluttering on the smoke. Then, he said, "He was caught with the Piplup."

"And why is there a hanky in his mouth?"

"He talks too much."

The redhead took a long drag of his pipe, barely flinching as the ribbon of smoke moved into his eyes.

"She's not even that threatening, Duke Rowan," he snickered. "Look at her. How the hell did _you _get attacked by _her_? Weren't you once the king?"

_The King? _

Nova felt her eyes grow wide. Felt her heart come to a halt.

_Oh, Arceus. _

"You're _the _Rowan?" she asked. "King Rowan? _You_?"

Rowan waved his hand dismissively. "Duke Rowan, now. Cynthia took the throne from me."

"I still remember that battle," the redhead said. "Glorious little thing. I'm still surprised you're in one piece after that fight, Duke. Bloody glorious. They say that the sands of the arena are _still _red after that battle."

Nova blinked slowly at the redhead. At the old man frowning before her.

_Oh, Arceus._

Lucas cleared his throat. "Are you quite done, Flint? I would like to know your plans for the thief."

"Tch, tch," Flint said. "You've become spoilt, Knight. Know your place. The queen may favour you, but we don't give a damn about-"

"Shut up, Flint," Rowan snapped.

"You don't tell me what to do, old man."

Rowan slammed his hands against the table, loud enough to make all of them – even the two Pokémon – freeze.

"Actually, Flint," he growled, "I _do_. I am Duke Rowan, your old king. You are nothing but a stableman who looks after the Rapidash. _You _should know _your _place."

Flint frowned and took another drag of his smoke. "Just get the execution done and over with."

And though Nova couldn't have been sure, she could have _sworn _that both Barry and Lucas took quick, sharp breaths. Hell, she, herself, could no longer hear her heartbeat – it felt too distant, too far, compared to the whip that Flint was drawing out of his belt.

Holy Arceus, they were going to _kill _her.

"Execution?" Lucas repeated. "You're _killing _her?"

Flint shrugged. "_You're _killing her. I'm just the bloody stableman who looks after the Rapidash. You're the bloody Knight on-"

"Jealous, are we?"

"Oh, shut up," Flint spat. He turned to Rowan, his fists buried into the golden silk of his own blouse. "Seriously, Duke, you should have called Aaron here. Not me. He's the poison seeker. I'm sure he would have come up with something."

Rowan raised his hand and snarled. "I never asked you to do any killing. I only asked you to come so that you could report this moment to Cynthia. Now, Knight, give me your sword."

For a second, Nova could see the battle in Lucas' eyes. He glanced down at his sword, at the duke before him, at the blind boy who was trying desperately to place his feet onto the ground, and finally towards the dark-haired girl beside him.

"Please," she muttered. "_Please_."

Then, the knight unsheathed his sword. Handed it over to Duke Rowan. Stared down at the floor and stepped back.

Nova didn't dare close her eyes, even as Duke Rowan stepped towards her. Even as he raised the sword into the air and levelled it with her neck. Even as Chimchar shrieked and covered his eyes.

She wasn't going to flinch. She wasn't going to blink.

She wanted to see the damned blade slice her own throat.

But Duke Rowan did nothing of the sort.

He only gently tapped the top of her with the flat side of the sword.

"I hereby declare you, November of Twinleaf, to be my champion in this year's Gladiator Games."

The rich, oaky smell of fire and smoke permeated the room, hanging desperately onto the dust in the air. Apart from the howl of the seaside breeze and the tinny music from the other end of the door, Nova could hear nothing.

Except, of course, the crack in Flint's voice as he said, "You bloody _what_?"

"You heard me," Rowan said. "I saw her fight the Starlys. It's rough and hideous – no grace at all. She probably couldn't lift a sword."

"That's awfully unkind of you," Nova pointed out.

Rowan silenced her with an arch of his brow. "I chose you, though, because of the fire in your eyes."

"Aye, it was probably the Chimchar's tail-"

Lucas reached out and pinched her on the arm. Nova swore.

"She's from _Twinleaf_!" Flint exclaimed. "You know that's not allowed!"

"She doesn't have to be from Twinleaf," Rowan pointed out. "Look at her. Does she look like she's missing any parts of her body?"

Flint scowled. "No, but she acts like she's missing parts of her _mind_. If you're not going to kill her for stealing, then I sure bloody am."

But before he could even lunge, Chimchar darted onto his head, tugging at the red. Scratching and biting and screaming bloody murder.

With a nod of his head, Lucas stepped between the girl and the stableman.

"You heard the Duke's orders," he said, glancing at Nova. "The only one who gets to decide her fate is November herself."

The girl could only stare at Rowan and his downturned lip.

The old king – the old _grump _– was choosing _her_? To fight as a _gladiator_ and contest for the throne and probably get her head ripped off in an arena?

Then, from the corner of her eyes, she saw Barry deflate back onto his chair. Saw him smile weakly. Saw his cheeks flush pink.

_What does pink look like? _

_It looks like hope. And feels like a kiss._

And with those words ringing in her head, Nova turned back towards Duke Rowan and smiled.

"I accept," she told him. "But I have one condition."

Flint scoffed. "Here we go. She's going to ask for a ton of gold. Sequined gowns. A chance to smooch Prince Volkner."

"Silence, Flint," Rowan snapped. "And tell me of your request, girl."

"I want you to also patron my friend. Barry."

And, just like that, Nova had a feeling that Duke Rowan _wished _she had asked for a chance to smooch Prince Volkner instead.

"You mean, the blind boy?" Rowan asked slowly.

Nova nodded. "Please, Duke. It's been his dream. Not mine. He can do it. I know he can."

"He can't _see_. You do understand that, in the Gladiator Games, it's not just the Pokémon who fight. The humans fight, too."

"I know, but-"

Rowan raised his hand in the air. "And I do not have the coin to patron two gladiators. I would lose everything if both of you didn't even collect a single jewel."

"_Please_."

"The answer is no. Give up."

And she nearly did. She nearly demanded to go back to Twinleaf. She nearly reached out and slapped the stupid, grinning Flint right on the cheek.

But then, Lucas sighed.

"I'll patron him," the knight said. "I turned eighteen last month. I'm old enough to patron my own champion."

Rowan's eyes went wide. "Knight-"

"There's no changing my mind, Duke. Now take that hanky out of his mouth so that I can speak to my champion."

Nova didn't waste a second. She moved across the room, through the smoke, and unwound the damp cloth from her friend's mouth.

And, dignified as ever, Gladiator Barry's first words to his patron were, "Piss and blood, wait until I tell me mum!"

Both Nova and Lucas exchanged grins as Barry leapt to his feet and insisted on kissing his patron's feet. Then, the girl turned towards the fire-monkey who was staring at her from atop Flint's head.

She knew he would be hers. She felt it in her blood – in her very bones.

And though she knew that gladiators and knights were not supposed to name their Pokémon – though she knew that death could be just along the corner for both her and the Chimchar once they started the Gladiator Games – Nova smiled.

_Tric, _she decided. _His name will be Tric. _

And that, dear masters and squires, readers and writers, friends and foes, is where our adventure truly begins.

* * *

**All ****Pokémon were named after book characters. And now that our adventure begins, I shall formally introduce our brave little champion:**

**Tric the Chimchar: Named after Tric, from the Nevernight trilogy by Jay Kristoff. 'Caught' at level 5. **


	6. Chapter V

**Chapter V**

"Okay, Piplup. If you need me to turn left, say _p__ip,_" Barry said. "If I need to turn right, say _lup. _If I'm about to crash into something and you need me to go backwards, say _piplu_. If you see Sir Riley, say _Pippi_ and make sure my hair looks nice."

"_Pippi_!"

"That's the spirit!"

As she watched her friend and his Piplup scamper out the gates and towards the sand, yelping as they tripped over a particularly wicked crack in the bricks, Nova cast a glance towards Lucas. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Especially this late at night?"

Lucas shrugged. "I may be his patron, but I can't walk him everywhere. He needs to learn how to work with his Pokémon both inside and outside the arenas. Besides, don't you want to go to Twinleaf and tell _your _mother about this arrangement?"

"Barry will tell her for me. I'm not going back there."

"And why not?"

Nova thought about the last words her mother had said to her – the words that had been whispered with desperation and hope and pain.

_Go wherever the sands take you, my lass. Dance with the winds. _

_And never come back to this hellhole. _

"I made a promise," she told him. "I won't be going back until I've reached Eterna."

Lucas eyed her carefully, and though his headdress still covered all but his eyes, Nova could feel the question on his lips. The curiosity brimming within his gaze.

"Well," he finally said. "No use standing around. Let's get you into gear before Rowan comes back with the ink."

* * *

The room with its mahogany walls and iron bars was almost enough to make Nova sick. There were at least twenty others around her, their faces daubed in crimson, swaying and rolling like water as they pushed through the rows of armour and weaponry.

Like her, each of the other people – mostly men – were holding iron helms with tall crests of dark Mamoswine hair. Like her, they all had short steel swords and a broad shield in their hands. Like her, there was fervour and fury and _fear _in their eyes. They were staring at one another, surveying each potential opponent, eyeing the muscles along their arms and the length of the sword in their hands.

No one spared Nova a second glance. Even Chimchar and the burst of flame along his tail was _nothing _compared to some of the men and their broad chests and rippling muscles.

Soon enough, Lucas was back, even _more _gear in his hands. Leather armour, boots, britches, a dark doublet, a whip, empty Pokéballs, and a silver belt.

"First rule as a gladiator," he told her, "is that you must _always_ wear this belt. Every time you beat one of the eight legionaries, they will give you a gem. There are eight little holes for the gems to fit. As long as you wear this, people will know that you are a gladiator."

He held out the rest of the clothes and waited. Nova only stared at him.

"You're planning on watching me change, are ye?"

Lucas gestured broadly at the rest of the room, where men and women alike were already stripping off their rags and boots, throwing over the doublets and armour instead. None trembled. None refused. And, though a few of them were drinking in the sight of bare limbs from the corner of their eyes, most didn't give a damn. Not while everyone was armed with swords.

And so, with her face hot, Nova snatched the clothes from Lucas and started to change. Her gaze locked onto the floor. Hoping desperately that no one would see the shame in her eyes.

It was almost a relief to look up and realise that both Lucas and Chimchar, too, had their gazes trained onto the floor.

"Are there any other rules I should know?" she asked the knight quickly, looping the final article of clothing – the belt – around her waist. The armour was almost suffocating – it was so damned heavy, and her boots clinked with every step she took. Even the sword buried into its sheath felt all wrong, like it was weighing her down, like it was desperately trying to leap away from her.

Lucas nodded thoughtfully. "Don't have an affair with your patron. Otherwise you'll both be disqualified."

"Because doing the bloody tumble with Duke Rowan was _exactly _what I had in mind."

"It's happened before," Lucas argued. "The year that Queen Cynthia was crowned, one of the other gladiators had an affair with his patron. And his patron was many years older than him. So, don't do it. It's not worth it."

Nova scowled. "Of course I'm not going to do it, you nonce. Are there any other rules?"

"You shouldn't murder your patron, either-"

"Rules about the _games_," Nova cut in, rolling her eyes as Chimchar climbed atop her head and tugged at the Mamoswine hair over the helm. "Are there weapons we can't use? Are we not allowed to touch their hair or anything?"

"No rules. Just keep fighting until your opponent has either fainted, surrendered, or died. And try your best not to die."

"Sounds simple."

Lucas shot her a watery smile. "You really are something, aren't you?"

Nova didn't get the chance to respond. Hell, she didn't even get the chance to complain about how stupid she felt trying to shove the helm over her head. For, in that second, Duke Rowan burst through the doors, a clay pot in his hands.

The room turned silent. And, as the silence hissed in Nova's ears, she just _knew _that the other gladiators were glancing around, trying to work out who the hell Duke Rowan had sponsored, trying to work out which gladiator was strong enough to have the old king patron them.

"Come with me, November," Duke Rowan said. "I have the Heatran Ink."

With a gentle nudge from Lucas, Nova and Chimchar followed after the duke. She tried to ignore the whispers and murmurs behind her, instead focusing on the tapestries of blood and sand along the walls, the suits of armour that were plastered over them.

They found themselves in a room with fresh straw and thick chains – a room that smelt like sweat and shit.

And Nova didn't question _why _it smelt like sweat and shit until it was too late.

As Lucas removed his own headdress and ushered her towards a chair, Duke Rowan moved towards a table to the side. He fiddled with iron needles, powdered it little metal tubes, small bottles of some liquid that was mixed with thick red and dark ink.

_Heatran Ink? _

"Sit," Lucas said.

Nova took one glance at the chair – at the buckles and straps on it – and shook her head. Even Chimchar whimpered and moved into her hands.

"What is going on?" she asked.

Lucas winced. "He's going to ink your back."

"Ink my back? With what?"

"With my name," Rowan said grimly. "It's part of the rules. All gladiators must have their patron names inked onto their flesh. A tattoo, they call it, blessed with lava from Heatran. Your friend, Barry, will have one for himself once he is back from Twinleaf."

Nova paled. Felt her heart come to a halt.

_His _name? On _her _back?

"No," she said. "We're gladiators. Not slaves."

"Rich of you to assume they're not the same thing," Rowan mused.

Nova ignored him. She turned towards Lucas. "I didn't sign up for this. Please, Lucas, you-"

She froze as he shook his head pleadingly.

And she understood.

_It was either this or death. Gladiator or thief. _

"Sit," Lucas urged her. "It's going to hurt."

"No. I'll stand."

She shrugged off the helm, armour and doublet, though Lucas insisted that she could keep her bandeau wrapped tightly around her chest. Duke Rowan toyed with the liquid in the pot, adding powder until it hissed and bubbled and spat black ink at him.

Then, he dipped a needle into it. Lined up the steel against Nova's back.

"Ready?"

Nova nodded. "Ready."

She was wrong.

The pain was like black fire, like burning agony over her skin. It lanced through her back and bones, stole away her breath, and her knees buckled and black stars swam into her eyes and her chest heaved-

A hand held her steady. Touched her cheek.

"It'll be okay, Nova," Lucas whispered. "I've got you."

But his words were nothing compared to the needle that hammered into her back, over and over and over again, each like a thunderclap along her skin.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

Nova's fingernails dug into her palms. White spots swelled before her eyes. The room rolled beneath her. And still, Lucas held her, whispering into her, telling her she would be okay, that he was there, that he would personally find her a way to wash away the ink-

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

And each bite of pain – each crushing blow of steel along her bone – was just another bitter reminder.

She no longer belonged to herself. She belonged to someone else.

If it hadn't been for Lucas, she might have broken. Even as she sobbed and whimpered – even as blood moved over his fingers – he stayed there, running his hands through her hair, cupping her face, whispering that _she was going to be okay_.

And Chimchar, too, held her. Squeezed her hand. Chattered into her ear. Hissed at Rowan every time Nova choked on a sob.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

She would be okay.

For Lucas. For Chimchar. For Barry.

For her mother.

There was a rustle of white cloth behind her. A flurry of dark silk. The clank of iron.

It took her a few minutes to realise that Rowan had already finished branding her back. It took her even longer to realise that Lucas had helped her dress back into her blue doublet.

But it would take her weeks to realise that Lucas still held her afterwards, his breath like the breeze in her ear.

"I've got you, Nova. And you're going to be okay."

* * *

Safe to say, November was in a pissy mood after that.

The night had rolled in over the beach, turning the sky into a vast expanse of jet-black. Even then, the sea glistened with each wink of the moon, and though the air was still and heavy, Nova felt like she was breathing in fire as she, Chimchar, and Lucas moved towards the inn. She turned towards the knight beside her and took a long breath.

"I want to learn how to fight."

"It's late at night," Lucas told her, his gaze locked onto the helmet in his hands. "Even the villagers are sleeping, now. And, if anything, you should be learning how to catch Pokémon, considering you probably don't know how to do that."

The faint wind brushed against the ocean's surface, and the ripples ruffled the water, shattering the reflection of the thick clouds and faint stars. Rowan had stalked off – back to the whorehouse, Nova assumed – barking something to Lucas about booking Nova a chamber in the inn.

"I don't need to catch Pokémon," Nova insisted. She gestured at the small fire-monkey, whose thumb was in his mouth as he snored in her arms. "Tric and I are fine on our own. I want you to teach me how to _fight_."

"But your back must be sore-"

The reminder of the heavy throb in her back was enough to make Nova halt. She dropped the leather satchel onto the sand – the leather satchel with her armour and helm – and scowled.

"I'm not going to die with the bloody ink on my back, you hear?" she snapped. "Do you know how shitty it is to be _reminded _that you belong to someone else?"

Tric moaned softly in his sleep. Lucas only arched his brow.

"No, you wouldn't," Nova added bitterly. "Because all you knights do is drink ale, get drunk, toy with pretty girls, and wear your fancy armour. Why do you always wear your helmet when there are other people around, anyways? Is it so that all the lasses we pass don't recognise you as the father of their bastard babe?"

She knew she had gone too far seconds after she had said it. Hell, one look at the coldness within Lucas' eyes was almost enough to send her hurtling back towards Duke Rowan.

But, instead, she ripped her sword out of her belt and dug it into the sand.

"We fight," she said. "_Now_."

And, without a word, Lucas grabbed her wrist and dragged her towards a patch of ochre sand. The ground was uneven, with scaffolds and pits dividing the sands into differently lumped levels, and the stones were marked with red. Blood red.

"Get your sword out," Lucas said, each word stilted – each word as icy as the wind. He stripped off his armour, then, leaving him in nothing but a white blouse and dark britches. All he kept was his shield.

Nova watched as he kicked his sword and Pokéballs away from him. As if he wouldn't need them.

Did he really think she was _that _pathetic?

With a nudge, she woke up Tric. The Chimchar leapt onto the sands beside her, his fingers outstretched, his tail brighter than the moon.

"Attack," Lucas ordered.

Ignoring the sharp pain in her back, Nova swung her blade. But Lucas was too quick; before she could even blink, his shield was blocking her and shoving her back.

"I didn't ask for a bloody kiss," Lucas snapped. "I said _attack_."

Nova scowled, launching a series of blows wherever she could – the head, the chest, the belly. And though Lucas hardly had to move, his shield kept cracking against her sword. As quick and effortless as breathing.

Even Tric was hissing as sand flew into his eyes, blowing ember after ember aimlessly into the air. The fire missed completely and, as Tric tried to lunge at the knight, Lucas' boot slammed into the Chimchar and sent him hurtling onto the rocks.

And, just like that, Lucas came to life.

He shifted from his back foot to his front, moving in swift and graceful strides. Then, in the space of a second, he knocked the sword from Nova's hand, cracked his shield into her gut, and left her sprawled in the sand.

Lucas loomed over the gasping girl, not even a thin sheen of sweat along his brow.

"Tric and you are fine on your own, aye?"

"Go to hell."

"I'm not even using one of _my _Pokémon."

"Go. To. Hell."

Nova growled as she hauled herself onto her feet. She found Lucas' shoulders with her hands, tried to angle herself and shove her knee into his crotch, but he caught her. With his fingers locked in her hair, he brought his face down onto her knee and, before she could cry out or protest, there was a sickening crack.

It was almost as bad as the tattoo. She felt like rocks had been left inside her head as she fell to the floor, her heart rattling, her head spinning, her lungs burning. Even through the tears in her eyes, she could see Trics trying to attack Lucas again, the small Chimchar's fists pounding the boy's jaws, both of their teeth clenched, both of them scowling-

Lucas landed a fist into Chimchar's shoulder, and the Pokémon scrambled away with a gasp and twisted out of reach.

Nova expected him to apologise. She expected him to reach down and touch her burning head.

Instead, though, the knight moved to the side, threw back on his armour and helmet, and moved towards the heart of Sandgem.

"Where are you going?" Nova called out.

"To the inn. So I can drink ale, get drunk, and toy with girls while wearing my fancy armour."

Chimchar ran back into Nova's arms, and the pair of them watched as the knight's silhouette melted into the darkness.

Suddenly, Lucas stopped.

"I do, by the way," he said softly.

"What?"

Lucas didn't turn to face her. Instead, he just snorted. "You asked me if I know how shitty it is to be reminded that I belong to someone else. And I do know. I'm reminded of it every day."

* * *

As it turned out, the inn was a lot more sombre than Nova expected it to be.

It was nothing but a large stone cottage with a large chimney poking out from the tin roof. A neat pile of chopped wood sat in the corner, but she couldn't smell fire – she could only smell Starly coop. Through the warm glow of the lamps, Nova found a small wooden table, a few chairs, a sprawled deck of cards, and crumbs along the floor.

There was no ringing laughter or hooting voices. No smiling faces or kind eyes.

Just gladiators – tired and silent – eyeing their competition. Calculating their every move. Some even snorted as they found the bruise on Nova's head.

Only one lady smiled at her – the lady behind the table, with torn paper and ink in her hands. Well, more specifically, she smiled at _Lucas_.

"Knight!" she called out. She pushed her lips out a little and lolled her head to the side, letting her pink hair fall over the shoulder. "I wasn't sure that you'd be back."

Lucas, behind his helmet, grinned lopsidedly. "How could I not come back to a pretty face like yours, Joy?"

Both Nova and Tric widened their eyes.

Was Lucas _flirting_?

For a second, Nova nearly laughed at the thought. Then, she took a good look at Joy – at the dress that hung from her shoulders and the eyes that were like rings of swirling ale. The girl took a blow of her smoke, and the hazy cloud moved into their faces, lingering and spiralling in the stagnant air.

Tric choked, and both Lucas and Joy grinned.

But Nova just stared at Joy. At those pretty, round eyes. And her perfectly pink ringlets of hair.

No one had ever flirted with her like that. Of course, no one in Twinleaf really _flirted_, so to say.

But still, it _hurt_. It hurt to remember that her skin was all raw and ripped. It hurt to remember that her hair had never been washed and hung in a limp of black beside her. It hurt to remember that she had nothing but skin to her bones, and ink to her skin.

"I'd like to book another chamber," Lucas was saying to Joy. "For this young gladiator here. She belongs to Rowan."

Joy smiled – almost sympathetically – at Nova. "And where is this young lass from?"

Lucas hesitated. Glanced quickly at Nova.

"Sandgem," he said. "She's from Sandgem-"

"_She_ is right here," Nova cut in. "And _she _is from Twinleaf."

She almost felt a swell of pride in her chest as Lucas winced. Almost.

Joy froze, though, her brush barely dipping into the pot of ink. "Twinleaf? Is that allowed?"

"It's allowed," Lucas said. "It's just… rare."

"Rare?" Joy repeated incredulously. A few heads turned towards them, and she quickly leaned across the counter and whispered, "You know it's an insult to patron someone from Twinleaf. It's an insult to all the other gladiators, it's an insult to the patrons-"

"I haven't come here to discuss politics, Joy. I'm here for a chamber."

"I'm not doing it. I like you, Sir, but I need this job."

Nova didn't know why she felt her heart sink at the words. She didn't _need _the bloody inn – she could sleep on the sands, for all she cared.

But Barry might have needed the inns. And if one of the gladiators found either of them lying on the ground, they could snatch their gems from their belts, could slash their throats off while they were still sleeping, could-

Lucas reached out and cupped Joy's cheek.

"No one will know," he said softly. "Don't you trust me?"

Nova and Tric exchanged bemused glances. The Chimchar faked a gag, and for a second, Nova nearly laughed at how absurd it all was, at the fact that she was actually having a _knight _bargain a room for her.

And she would have laughed if Joy hadn't said, "But, Knight, she's a _crip_."

Just like that, Nova felt her head clear.

She wasn't here to actually be a gladiator. She was here to get to Eterna, change her name, and go back to Twinleaf to look after her mother.

She had no business living in an _inn_ while her mother suffered in Twinleaf.

Nova turned to Joy and spat right in the girl's pretty, little face.

"You can keep your room. I don't want one, anyways."

Lucas reached for her. "Nova, don't-"

"There's no changing my mind," she said coldly. "If these people are so twisted in the head that they think Twinleaf villagers are the ones doing the insulting, then I don't want to be near them, anyways."

And, with a chatter of approval from Tric, Nova stormed out of the inn.

She didn't need an inn. She would sleep on the bloody _rocks _if she had to.

Besides, Lucas had told her that she probably couldn't even catch Pokémon.

And boy, was she ready to prove the bastard wrong.


	7. Chapter VI

**Chapter VI **

"Why is catching Pokémon so bloody difficult?"

The cold wind tugged at Nova's armour and whipped her loose hair as she lay in the sand with Tric. The sand was black from the dark of the night, and though she could hear the waves lapping against the shore like the ticking of the clock – a constant reminder that she was _hours _into the night – she did not let herself rest.

Why?

Because she couldn't work out how to use the blasted Pokéball.

She had pried it open with a dagger, and nets had come flying out of it – nets made of thin, cold wire. Both her fingers and Tric's feet were caught in the nets, and she could _feel _the wire trying to tighten around her hands, trying desperately to squeeze her into a small bundle of flesh. For a second, she could have _sworn _that one of her hands had _shrunk. _

Whatever magic they were made of, Nova decided she wanted _nothing _to do with it.

"To hell with this," she spat, slicing at the netting with the dagger. Her hands fell free, and the blood rushed back into her fingers and Tric's feet as she added, "We aren't using these things. You're walking, Tric. And everyone else who joins us is walking, too."

They continued moving through the thick darkness, Tric's tail hardly enough for either of them to see past the black shadows around them. Even with the harsh bite of the wind on their faces and the wicked whisperings of the sand, they moved forwards, looking for something – anything – that would be awake during the ungodliest hour of the night.

And, sure enough, they found something. Two somethings.

A Starly and a Shinx.

The Shinx had its claws out, and was swiping at the Starly's cheek. And even though it was enough to draw blood – even though the Shinx went as far as to slam its body into the Starly and send it sprawling into the sand – the bird didn't fight back. It only chirped weakly and struggled to its feet, flapping and flapping, one wing moving and one wing barely rising from the ground-

Its wing was broken, Nova realised.

Had that been because of Barry? Because of _her_? Had that been one of the Starlys she had _punched_?

With one last triumphant growl, the Shinx moved towards the ocean breeze. Towards Sandgem.

"Well," Nova whispered to Tric, who was staring wide-eyed from her shoulder. "I guess we know who the tough one is. Let's go after the Shinx."

But, even as she turned to chase after the electric-type, Tric remained there. He frowned and pointed at the injured Starly. He even went so far as to wipe _tears _from his eyes.

_Oh, Tric, you absolute bloody softie. _

"We're _gladiators_, Tric," she said to the Chimchar. "We need warriors. Not birds with broken wings!"

Chimchar bared his teeth. Held his hands out in fists. Glared.

But he didn't dare move.

And that's when Nova realised what he was telling her. She felt it like a stab to her chest, like a shard of glass in her very heart.

The way those rich folks – Volkner, Flint, Joy – looked at her was no different to the way she had looked at the Starly.

Pitiful. Pathetic. Worthless.

So, with Tric by her side, she slowly crawled towards the Starly and dug through her satchel until she found the thick, white bandages that Lucas had bought for her. Then, she held it out towards the bird.

"Hey, little fellow," she said. "Are you- _Oi_! Did you have to peck me? I'm trying to bloody help you, you bloody twit."

The Starly looked at her, startled. Flapped its wings hopelessly. Desperately trying to escape.

Nova sighed.

"Okay, look," she mumbled, "I'm sorry. Let's get your bandages sorted out. Hold still. And, I swear to Arceus, if you peck me again, I'm going to pluck your feathers off and stick them onto my helmet, you hear?"

The Starly chirped nervously. And still, despite its trembling body and its pounding heart, it let Nova wrap the bandages around its wing. Tric was right there beside it, patting awkwardly at its head, muttering something that Nova couldn't even _begin _to understand.

"It's done," she said, admiring the bloodied gauze that stuck to the bird's feathers. "Now, how would you feel about joining my team? We're going to be gladiators. Fight the legionaries. Chop some heads off and whatnot."

With a long, heavy sigh, Starly gestured at his wing. At the bandages and blood.

"Aye, that _does _make things a little harder. You don't need to remind me-"

She froze suddenly as she heard a rustle to her left. From the corner of her eyes, through the shadows and mounting heaps of sand, she could see a small movement – a large pair of golden eyes – staring at her. Its light blue fur was flushed red, its fangs were bared, and with the dim moonlight pouring over it, Nova could see a glint of gold along its tail.

It was the Shinx.

And it was _furious_.

Nova and Tric exchanged a glance. The Chimchar snorted. The girl grinned slyly.

No, it wasn't furious. It was _jealous_.

"Besides," Nova said suddenly, "you were _so _tough, Starly. That Shinx had nothing on you. Did you see it? I bet it trotted away like the coward it is! That's why I chose you – broken wing or not. And I'm going to name you Bailey."

There was a low growl behind her. Nova didn't so much as flinch.

"Oh, man," she continued, "Shinx. What a weak little thing. I bet it couldn't even hurt a Bidoof-"

She felt the sand shift beneath her, felt the wind stop moving to her left, and with a quick nod at Tric, the Chimchar lunged.

Tric clawed out at the incoming Shinx, flames tumbling from his mouth, and for a second, Nova could only stare in awe as she wrapped Bailey into her arms.

She had forgotten how _fast _Pokémon could be, how they could move and strike like the lashing of a whip. Chimchar knocked Shinx away as though he were brushing away a speck of dust, and he slammed into the little lion, sending it backwards. Unable to catch its footing, the Shinx started to fall, heading straight into the sand at a twisted angle, neck first.

It would hurt. A lot.

But, just as quickly as Tric had struck, Nova reached out and caught the Shinx by its tail. She raised it into the air and cocked her head to the side.

"Caught you," she said. "And now, how do _you _feel about being one of my gladiator Pokémon too?"

In response, the Shinx reached out and tried to rip her face off with its paws. Nova held it away from her nose and flicked it onto the sand.

"Fine, then," she said. "You're free to go. I don't want a Pokémon who will chew at my rump all day. I already have Lucas doing that."

From Nova's arms, Bailey shot a wicked grin at the Shinx. Tric darted back up to Nova's shoulder.

"Come on, fellows," she told her Pokémon. "Let's find somewhere to sleep."

* * *

Sleep pooled on all three of their eyelids, and before they had even reached Sandgem, they decided to drop onto the sand and sleep then and there. Nova found a small, dried tree stump to lean against, and with the wind swooping and rushing and rustling through the sand, she and her two Pokémon fell asleep.

Or, at least, she _tried _to sleep. For only a few minutes had passed when she felt someone shake her awake. She dusted away the sand from her eyes and found herself staring at sharp blue eyes, a messy mop of dark hair, and a very, very concerned frown.

"Lucas?" she whispered, her gaze drifting down to Tric and Bailey, who were still curled up in her arms. "By the blasted shadows, what are you _doing _here?"

"I came to make sure you were okay."

"Okay? _Okay_? Rowan is my patron. Shouldn't you be worried about Barry?"

Lucas shrugged. "Barry isn't wearing his gear, yet. None of the gladiators will target him, because they don't even know that he is their opponent. But you're fully dressed, _and _Rowan made a spectacle of you when you were buying your gear. I'm surprised that no one has already chopped your head off."

"Your optimism never ceases to amaze me, Sir Lucas."

With a click of his tongue, Lucas held out his hand. "Let's just get you somewhere better to sleep, aye?"

"I'm fine here," Nova pointed out, gesturing at the stump behind her. "It's not even that bad. I've slept on rocks before, you know."

"But did you like sleeping on the rocks?"

"Well, there's a reason I ain't sleepin' on them now, ain't there?"

Lucas ducked his head, but Nova caught the grin on his face before he could hide it.

And, to her surprise, the knight dropped his headdress onto the sand and sat down beside her, leaning his back against the stump and brushing his shoulder against hers.

"You're going to sleep _here_?" she asked him.

"Do you hate me _that _much?"

"No," Nova quickly said. "I'm just… It's not rocks, but it's not a big mattress made of Pelipper feathers either. It's a bloody tree stump and sand. And you're a _knight_."

"So?"

Nova didn't say anything. She just stared at him incredulously.

Lucas's face softened, and he reached out to squeeze her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said. "About everything with Joy."

She squeezed his hand right back. "And I'm sorry about what I said to you. About the bastard babes. I know you wouldn't do that."

"Don't worry about it. What I'd like to know is how you managed to catch _two _new Pokémon."

"I didn't. I only caught one."

Lucas shot her a wry smile. "Really? There's one Shinx that growled at me when I first came close to you. It ran away after you woke up, but-"

"Really? Where?"

Both Tric and Bailey mumbled something in their sleep as Nova tried to glance over her shoulder, into the dark lumps of sand. She only managed to catch a quick glimpse of a star-shaped tail when Lucas yanked her back down.

"Forget it," he said. "And sleep. We have a big day tomorrow."

"We do?"

He grinned. "I'm going to teach you how to fight _without_ getting your arse kicked."

"I did _not _get my arse kicked!"

"Whatever you say, Nova. Whatever you say."

* * *

The sun burned the sky clear, and the clouds burned blood red and smouldering yellow against the endless ocean of blue. And, with its heat shimmering down onto the sands, Nova let out what was probably the seventy-eighth curse of the morning.

She raised the curved rectangle of iron on her right arm, swearing at how it was heavier than a pile of bricks, swearing at how stupid it was that she couldn't use a shield, swearing at how she smelt like an absolute sack of sweat.

"Your shield work is sloppy," Lucas pointed out, raising his sword and slapping it against the shield.

"Is it, aye? Maybe it's because I only just learnt how to use it an hour ago?"

"_Four _hours ago," Lucas corrected. "And if you want to survive the first legionary, you're going to need to stop dancing like a bride at her wedding, and start actually _using _the shield. And don't get me started on your Pokémon."

To her side, Chimchar was skipping across the sand, dodging each of Torterra's vines, weaving in and out of range. The grass-type's face was set like stone, his vines whistling with each strike.

As for Bailey?

The poor, wee bird was limping across the sand, trying desperately to peck at the Torterra. But each time he came close enough, his beak angled and his eyes fixed, he would swerve in the last second and miss. Tric had even given up trying to haul his friend out of the sand over and over again.

"They're against your strongest," Nova pointed out. "That's hardly fair."

Lucas bristled. "Torterra isn't my strongest. My strongest is back in Canalave, looking after my shift while I try to teach young lasses that their wee finger should _not _be touching their thumb when they hold a shield."

He lashed out with his sword again, and Nova ducked beneath her shield.

"What is even the point of a shield, anyway?" she hissed, stumbling back. "Oh, aye, am I going to block my enemies to death?"

"You're going to block your enemies from _stabbing _you to death." He struck at her again, his blade cleanly sliding through the air, and this time, the shield went flying out of her hand.

Lucas angled his blade to Nova's heart, and she stared, wide-eyed, her leather gloves knotted together.

"Like so," Lucas finished.

Nova frowned, when suddenly, her gaze drifted to her side and met a golden pair of eyes. Light blue fur. The tail with the star.

_Shinx_.

Except, this time, it wasn't looking at her. It was looking at _Lucas_. Awe and admiration and excitement glimmering in its eyes.

She didn't know why that fuelled the fire in her gut. She didn't know _why _she felt like she had to compete for a bloody Shinx's attention.

But still, she grabbed her shield and slammed it into Lucas's side. He stumbled only slightly, but Nova was already upon him, twisting aside, lunging with a fierce cry and plunging her shield into his gut. Then, with a kick, she sent him sprawling on the sand, panting and sweating, looking nothing but stunned.

Tric watched his master, watched the sharpness of her every move, the fire in her eyes.

Then, the Chimchar launched onto the Torterra and battered him with flames. He moved like water, struck like thunder, stood like a rock, and he punched at the grass-types face, smashing fist after fist into Torterra's eyes, landing blows to its nose and feet and mouth-

A burst of fire cracked across the Torterra's face and it howled, rolling across the sands to move away from the heat. And, as it tried to move away, it tripped over Bailey – who was _still _buried in the sand – and rolled down the mount of sand, groaning.

It hadn't fainted, for sure. But it certainly didn't look ready to stand again.

Lucas raised his hands in surrender. "You win. You got me _and _Torterra."

"You guys did it," Nova breathed out, turning to Bailey and Tric. "You bloody did it, you muttonheads!"

She reached out to hold them, to squeeze the living daylights out of them, and as she bathed in the warmth of Tric's tail and the soft silk of Bailey's feathers, Lucas cleared his throat.

"You're ready," he told her.

Nova whirled around to face him. "That's all? No praise? No, 'wow, Nova, you kicked my arse?'"

"If your head gets any bigger, dear Nova, it won't fit in that helmet of yours."

With a crooked grin, Nova reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "What's next, though? Will you teach me how to use an axe? What about a bone stiletto?"

"_Now_," Lucas said, prying his arm away, "I wait for Barry – my _actual _champion. He should be here, soon, and I need to train him."

"Oh. I suppose I was just practice, then? Helping you remember how to teach a novice?"

Lucas smiled and looked down at his feet. "Something like that." Then, with a sigh, he added, "You should keep going north. You'll reach the Jubilife Markets, and you can rest up there. Be careful, though: you will bump into other gladiators. And they are going to challenge you."

And though he was smiling, Nova couldn't help but feel her heart race.

Her? Battle gladiators?

On her _own_?

"Lucas, I'm not sure that I can…"

"You can, and you _will_," Lucas cut in. "I'll see you soon. I promise."

Nova glanced down at Tric and Bailey. Took a long breath.

"Aye. You have my thanks, Sir Lucas. For everything."

"Including kicking your arse?"

"_Especially _for that."

Lucas reached out and raised her helmet from her head, looking at her directly in the eye as he said, "Go, Nova. Stay safe."

And so she did. She scampered across the sands, laughing as Tric tugged at her hair and Bailey kept ramming into branches.

But little did she know that, right behind her, there was someone following. Someone with light blue fur. Someone with stubby little paws.

Someone with a golden star on their tail.

* * *

**And we officially have our first catch! **

**Bailey the Starly:** **Named after Bailey, from A Dog's Purpose. The reason he has a broken wing is because, while playing the game, Bailey would… not… stop… missing. Like, he'd miss more often than not. So, I carried that into the story. He's a goofball, but I still love him. **

**Now, thank you to everyone who is reviewing! I respond to all reviews but, alas, guest reviews aren't easy to respond to. So, to my guests: **

**Guest who wrote, "This is fantastic!" – You're the fantastic one. Thank you for reading. **

**Guest who wrote, "Calling it now." – You are correct, there are some things I have hidden from the reader, and I have been leaving hints regarding the full truth. I have no way of knowing whether your guess and analysis is correct, as you didn't say what you were calling (thank goodness, too – we wouldn't want spoilers in the comments!). However, if you've picked up what I **_**have **_**been hiding (well, there are two, actually), then I'm honestly very impressed. I would love it if you could get an account so we could discuss your theories. **


	8. Chapter VII

**Chapter VII**

"_You're _a gladiator?" Nova asked, incredulous. "But you're only a _kid_!"

The little boy grinned at her, his sabre like a stab of blue in the warm light of the sun. "Don't ye underestimate me, lass. I already have me patron thinkin' I'm gonna die after two legionaries-"

"If she thinks you're going ta' die, why'd she bloody sponsor you?"

"Each legionary I beat gives her gold. And she has no money left for ale right now."

Nova stared at him sceptically, though both Bailey and Tric looked just about ready to maul the small boy's Starly. "Look, lad, how could I hit you?"

"Easy. The sharp end of the sword goes in first-"

"That's not what I meant, you nonce," Nova snapped. "I mean, what happens if I hurt you?"

He shrugged. "You're not going to hurt me."

They circled around one another, the silky and thin sand of the beach muffling their steps. Nova didn't want to fight – she just wanted to let the cool ocean water lap at her feet, let it fizzle and bubble like brine. She wanted to enjoy the caress of the wind, the touch of the sun, the almost liquid rolls of sand.

But she could see other gladiators eyeing her, even as their swords clanged and hissed against the gladiators they were supposed to be sparring.

And she just knew they wanted to see what Duke Rowan's patron was made of.

So, Nova bunched her muscles, gave a feeble yell, and lunged.

The boy slid aside. In the space of a blink, his sword licked out, slapping Nova's ribs with the flat of his blade.

"Dammit, lad, that _hurt_!"

The young boy laughed. "Then don't get hit, aye? Next time it'll be the pointy side."

To her absolute delight, Nova heard the other gladiators swallow back their laugher. Some of them who had come to watch even stalked off then and there, throwing their heads back as they scoffed and swore at what a spineless bloody milksopshe was.

Even Bailey and Tric were struggling. The breeze was icy cold as the Starly threw a gust of wind at them, and Tric and Bailey thrashed and kicked against it, gagging as sand flew into their mouths, as the sea ocean splashed their faces.

And, as Bailey went crashing into the sand – head buried, feet flailing – Tric winked.

For the next few minutes, Nova let herself get hit. She let the boy swat at her with his shield, even though it stung and burned its way through her armour. And, each time he was ready to stab her with the pointed tip of his sword, she dodged and blocked it, groaning with what she hoped sounded like agony.

Eventually, the rest of the gladiators grew bored. They slowly made their way back into Sandgem, swearing at what an idiot Rowan had been.

And when they were gone – when every single one of them had stepped over Bailey's kicking legs – Nova let herself snap.

The boy flew at Nova, and this time, she didn't raise her shield. With Lucas's training in her mind, she snatched at the boy's waist and ripped the sabre from his little hands, twisting his wrists away as she dropped her sword and instead raised the sabre to his nose.

Tric, too, had taken the hint the moment the other gladiators had left. With his fangs shining, he lunged for the Starly. And though the bird jerked back, already stretching its wings to swoop up, the fire-type was too quick; with a cry, the Starly fell into the sand, a line of fire slicing across its cheeks.

The boy's arms turned rigid as he watched his Starly collapse. Then, as Nova pressed the sabre closer to his throat, he choked.

"The gold is in me belt!" he burst out. "I don't have much, but you can take one of me daggers… or the sabres, if you must…"

Nova didn't dare move her gaze away from his dark eyes, even as she heard Tric sigh and haul Bailey out of the sand. "What? Why are you offering _me _gold? I nearly stabbed your eye out."

"It's what gladiators do, no? Me patron told me that if I have me neck near a sword, I have to bargain with ye so I don't get me neck sliced off. You spare me neck, I give ye gold."

"My patron didn't tell me that."

"Yer patron must believe you ain't gonna lose, then."

Nova snorted, but released the boy. And, as he displayed his line of daggers and let her weigh the small pack of coins, Nova heard a scream – all high-pitched and raw and sharp enough to make her feel it pull her away from the boy and towards the sand dunes.

It was too shrill to be Barry's, too high to have come from Lucas. And yet, she ran, Tric right behind her and Bailey perched on his shoulder.

Soon enough, she found a small girl with blonde ringlets around her face. Her dress was torn and her face was chalky white, and though there were tears running down her cheeks as she clutched a Glameow to her chest, Nova couldn't see anything of concern – there was no blood along the Glameow, the girl was completely alone, and-

That's when Nova smelt the blood.

She glanced down at the girl's feet, and swore.

A Bidoof lay still on the ground, his head angled all wrong. Fresh blood spread over the sand and matted its brown fur, and as Nova stepped closer, she saw the chipped teeth and the torn flesh and the missing _eye- _

Nova swallowed down the bile in her throat.

"What happened?" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Is it yours?"

The girl choked back another sob. "It's not mine. I found it… and I think that Shinx…"

Nova's eyes went wide as she followed the girl's gaze towards a mount of sand. Towards the Shinx that was grinning down at them.

Just like that, Nova heard the echo of her own words – words she had said only hours ago – ring in her ears.

_Shinx. What a weak little thing. I bet it couldn't even hurt a Bidoof-_

Nova swore.

"You took me seriously, you bloody bastard…"

The Shinx rolled his eyes and strode over to her. Even though the small girl stumbled back and screamed, Nova stood her ground and waited.

Then, the Shinx moved beside Tric and Bailey. Nodded at them slowly. Fiercely.

"What does it mean?" the girl asked. "Is it true, then, that Pokémon kill other Pokémon to prove themselves to their gladiator?"

Nova felt her stomach churn. If she hadn't felt so sick at the sight of the Bidoof, she might have even fell to her feet and shaken some sense into the electric Pokémon.

Instead, though, she turned to the girl.

"What's your name, lass?" she asked.

"Bebe," the girl said, looking at her with big green eyes. "What are you going to do with the Bidoof?"

Nova knelt beside the Bidoof, and though its body lay in a puddle of its own blood, she felt the faintest of a heartbeat against her finger.

It was alive. Barely.

"I don't think I have enough bandages to save it," Nova admitted. "Do you have any other supplies? Do you know how to make a paste from herbs?"

Bebe shook her head. "My sister does, though, and she's just in Sandgem. She's a genius when it comes to herbs. She doesn't like it when I say that but it's true – she is really, really good, and I think that-"

"Lass, is your sister a healer or not?"

"She is."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Nova snapped. "Quit yappin' and go get her!"

With one last blanch, Bebe was off, her Glameow hissing in protest as they bounded towards Sandgem. Meanwhile, Nova turned to the Shinx and sighed.

"You're more trouble than you're worth, you know," she muttered. "Barry would absolutely love you. But I'm not Barry, so don't be arse, okay? Otherwise I'll give you a shitty name. Thumb-Sucker or Sandy-Arse or somethin'."

The Shinx huffed. Nonetheless, he didn't bite when Bailey tried to rub his beak softly against his snout.

"Rhys. Your name is Rhys," Nova decided. "And the Bidoof is now Puck."

All of her Pokémon – well, the three of them who were actually conscious – stared at her with wide eyes.

"He's alive, ain't he?" Nova pointed out. "Even though he's barely breathin', he'll probably be doing more damage than Bailey here, who can't even bloody take two steps without getting his beak stuck in something."

Bailey scowled as Tric burst into a grin. And though the Shinx rolled his eyes, Nova knew there was a ghost of a smile just there on his lips.

She turned back to the Bidoof and stroked it gently on its head.

"Welcome to the team, Puck."

* * *

Bebe returned only minutes later, but the wave of relief Nova felt was cut short at the sight of the pink-haired girl who stalked behind her.

It was bloody _Joy_.

"Well," Nova said with a snort. "This is a surprise. She's happy to come runnin' for a dying Bidoof, but she won't even give up a room for a Twinleaf villager?"

"Oh, shut up," Joy snapped. She lowered herself onto her knees, ignoring the sand that tumbled onto her velvety dress. "What happened to it?"

"Rhys tried to kill him."

"Rhys?"

Nova gestured over to the Shinx, whose eye was twitching as Tric and Bailey tried to pull nits from his fur.

Joy rubbed at her temples. "It's your bloody Pokémon. Why couldn't you control it?"

"It's your bloody mouth. Why can't you keep it shut?"

"Will _both _of you stop arsing around and _do_ something?" Bebe snapped suddenly.

Both Nova and Joy turned to snarl at the small girl.

"Language, Bebe!" Joy hissed.

Bebe rolled her eyes. "Oh, pardon me, dear sister," she said sweetly. "Will both of you lovely lasses stop being absolute muttonheads and find out what the fuck you can do about this shit?"

There was a moment of rich, heavy silence.

Then, Nova couldn't help it – she laughed.

Even Joy's frown looked forced as she said, "The Jubilife Markets will have what we need. But we have to run. Otherwise the Bidoof might not make it." She looked down at the small Pokémon, her fingers outstretched but shaking, her skin set but pale.

"What's wrong, lass?" Nova asked. "Scared of getting a bit of blood on your hands?"

"Fuck you."

Then, with a single fluid motion, Joy scooped the ripped Pokémon into her arms. Bebe furrowed her brows.

"Language, Joy!"

"Oh, pardon me, dear sister," Joy said, her voice cold and horribly sweet. "But will both you lovely lasses be absolute dolls and fucking hurry up?"

And, just like that, Nova decided that maybe Joy wasn't nearly as bad as she had first thought.

* * *

**With that, we officially meet: **

**Rhys the Shinx: ****Named after Rhysand, from A Court of Thorns and Roses. He's a bit of a menace, and he may or may not have murdered Puck, but we still love him, right?**

**Puck the Bidoof: ****Named after Puck (Robin Goodfellow), from A Midsummer Night's Dream. He's… well, a HM slave. **

**Which brings me onto my next point: throughout the course of the nuzlocke, I caught a **_**lot **_**of Pokémon. Like, a ridiculous amount. You can ask my friend Shuckle Master. It was my first ever nuzlocke so I was hyper paranoid and caught every first encounter I could. Part of it was strategic since, because of the duplicates clause, I was able to catch something I was really gunning for. **

**Anyways! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Bebe is, in fact, the Bebe from the game – I've just made her a whole lot younger and attempted to give her a personality that isn't 'computers'. Joy is… Well, she certainly ain't the Nurse Joy we're used to. **

**In other words, welcome to my nuzlocke, where no one is truly who you think they are. **


	9. Chapter VIII

**Chapter VIII **

The trio – Nova, Bebe, and Joy – moved through Jubilife, the wind wafting the sickly smell of slaughtered meat, tangy steel, and fresh silk at them. Even though night had long descended into the winding paths and the markets were closed for the evening, Nova could easily tell which lumpy, wooden stall had sold what; the one with the musty scent to her left must have been selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, the one with the rotten smell behind her had most _definitely _been selling fresh chunks of fish. Even Rhys, who was tucked in her arms, licked his lips as they moved past it.

Powdered spices lay in rusty red and yellow piles beneath her boots, and the rich scent was so thick and heavy that Nova could almost taste it in her mouth – all sweet and warm and velvety. Nothing like the scraps of bread she had grown used to.

But even the sweetness of the spices wasn't enough to stop her heart from twisting and coiling inside her chest as she glanced at Puck the Bidoof, whose breaths were almost silent against Bailey's constant chirping atop her head.

They needed healing supplies. Fast.

"It's night. All the markets are closed," Bebe pointed out. "Does this mean that the Bidoof is gonna die?"

Nova and Joy exchanged exasperated glances.

_Oh, kids. _

"There may be one stall open," Joy said, holding Bidoof to her chest. "I know that some markets only open up at night, so that they don't get caught by patrolling knights."

Nova arched her brow and glanced at Tric, who was settled on her shoulder. "Knights don't patrol at night?"

"Only the forgiving ones do. The ones who would keep their mouths shut for a good bargain."

"She means _opium_," Bebe whispered.

"Bebe! Who taught you that word?"

The small girl and her Glameow both shrugged. "Pa told us about the opium dens, remember?"

"Opium dens?" Nova repeated.

"Aye," Joy said grimly. "They're to the north. There are some merchants there who sell other herbs. If you can find someone who sells healing powder – or, better yet, an energy root – buy it. I'll take Bebe and the Pokémon to the inn around the corner."

And so, Nova watched with her throat tight as Joy and Bebe stalked into the night with Rhys, Bailey, Tric, and Puck. Then, she turned back towards the vacant stalls – towards the dark alleys where the opium dens were supposed to be.

Only after she started moving through the shadows of the night did she realise one very, very crucial piece of information.

She had no coin.

* * *

There was no starlight as Nova moved through the alley, each step so sluggish that it was almost like she was wading in water. The heavy smell that hung in the air was almost cloying, and with a dull thud in her heart, she moved past a lady with a long slit up her gown, nudged her way past a man with a tattoo of a Pokémon forking down his cheek.

They laughed at the sight of her and her armour, muttering something about gladiators and death and a _good time_.

Soon enough, Nova found herself pushing further into the alley, where the walls were painted dark red. Lamps hung down from the walls, their sides carved and painted, shining dim light along the pavement.

That's when Nova saw the men and women, their skin as blood red as the walls, their dark hair stuck to their heads. They were whispering furiously to one another, some counting and sifting and mixing powders together, some of their eyes glimmering hysterically beneath the lamplight.

But some of the people lay on their sides, their hands splayed, staring at the walls with their eyes open but unseeing. They were in nothing but trousers and tunics, and Nova couldn't help but stare at their half-lidded eyes and sweaty skin and feverish cheeks.

One glance at a woman humming to herself was enough to convince her that she had found the opium den.

"Pretty, pretty," a voice croaked behind her. "I knew you'd come."

Nova whirled around and choked on her breath as she found the old lady – the same one she had seen only days ago. Her cloak was ridden over her face again, leaving shadows where her face had been, and her back was still hunched as she stumbled towards the wall.

"Hey!" Nova called out. "I… I saw you in Sandgem."

The old woman snorted. "Aye? Pretty pretty is more than just a pretty face, then. She has a sharp mind."

Nova followed her towards a wooden stall, where tangled bits of root and powder lay in clumps.

_Herbs. _

"I need some of these herbs," Nova told her.

"That'll be seventy gold coins."

"_Seventy?" _Nova scowled. "My liver ain't even worth that much. I don't have seventy gold bloody coins."

The old woman's lips stretched into a wicked grin. "Then piss off."

_Oh, by Arceus' name- _

"_Please_," Nova said. "My Bidoof is dying."

"You came to an opium den to rip off a little old lady for a _Bidoof_? You're a funny one, lass." With a quick glance at the other merchants and gowned women around her, the old woman inched closer and whispered, "These herbs are from Celestic Town, y'know. They're the diamond of all herbs. If you want these herbs, you're going to need to make a good bargain."

Nova stared at the lady. Even then, with her face only inches away, she couldn't make out a single feature apart from the slight flash of grey that were her eyes.

_All of this for a Bidoof? _

"What if I give you my helm?" Nova asked, yanking the helmet off her head. Her hair fell free around her, and she shoved it onto the table between herself and the woman.

"Mamoswine hair is for peasants, lass."

Nova frowned. "What about the armour? The daggers?"

"Getting warmer."

And so, there and then, Nova stripped until she was in nothing but her rumpled blue shirt and pants and boots. She looped her gladiator belt back around her waist, and kept one sword buried by her hip.

The rest, though, lay on the table beside the herbs.

"All of this for a Bidoof, eh?" the woman mused.

Nova slammed her shield onto the wooden slab between them. "What about the bloody shield? Shall I chop off my hair, too? Slice off eight fingers?"

But the woman was no longer listening. She just stared at the shield.

"Where did you get this, lass?" she asked.

Nova shrugged. "A knight bought it for me."

"He bought it for you? Are you sure you didn't steal it from him? It's a _knight's _shield. Look."

Sure enough, beneath the lamplight, the shield glittered like the sun-kissed ocean lapping the sands; the brilliant red hue along the edges was as vivid as blood, and the streaks along the centre looked as if they were made from lapis lazuli.

Before Nova could say a word, the woman pushed the shield back towards her.

"Keep it," she said. "I'll just take your armour, the helm, and the daggers. The herbs are yours to keep."

"My thanks."

As she scooped the herbs and shield into her arms, the woman gave her a crooked smile. "You're not from here, are you, lass?"

Nova froze. "How did you know?"

"Your bargaining skills are absolute shit."

With a final jerk of a not-so-nice finger, Nova was off, away from the dens and back into the open air.

And if she had stayed back just seconds longer, she would have heard the woman chuckle as she examined the armour she had left behind.

"The poor lass needs better armour than _this_. What in Arceus' name is Rowan _doing_?"

* * *

Joy had, apparently, found a room for them to bandage up the Bidoof. It was a cheap thing – both in price and looks; it was cramped and cave-like, and the single lamp in the corner of the room was hardly enough to illuminate the spindly bed frame, the windows layered with dust and mould, and the Mothim-eaten carpets.

For Nova, though, it was heaven.

"There's a _bed _in here," she whispered to herself. Bailey and Tric exchanged bemused glances, but Rhys rolled his eyes and plopped himself right on the centre of the thin mattress.

"Get off, you," Joy snapped, though she flinched when the Shinx bared his teeth. "The bed is for the Bidoof. Nova, give the herbs to-" She froze suddenly, her gaze running down Nova's body for the first time that night.

And though she had once felt free in just the plain tunic and britches, Nova was vividly aware of how heavy the gladiator belt was around her, how awkward the shield and sword looked without any armour.

"Where the hell is your armour?" Joy demanded.

"I bargained it for the herbs."

"Didn't you have any coin?"

Nova arched her brow. Joy flushed, and gently lowered Puck the Bidoof onto the bed.

"Right. Sorry. Duke Rowan didn't give you anything."

And though she sounded almost sympathetic, Joy took one glance at Bebe, who was hovering near the curtains, and hardened.

"Bebe, go and crush the root," she ordered. "We'll need it to kill the swelling. And, dammit, we'll need ice or something. Lots of ice. This fever is burning him out like a bloody candle."

For the rest of the night, Nova watched in amazement as Joy worked. The girl moved across the room as fluidly as water, her hair tied in two knots behind her ears, her fingers swift as she peeled off pus-soaked bandages from Puck's chest and throat.

She streaked the Pokémon with the root and powder, deftly moving her hands around the veins that were dark with clots, one finger always – _always _– checking for a pulse. Even when Bebe choked and vomited out the window, Joy didn't stop. She just offered Nova a mirthless smile and ordered her to grab leaves and vinegar from her pack.

And finally, when the bandages were wrapped tightly around the Pokémon – hiding away the salt and herbal medicine and _genius _of Joy's work – the healer took a long breath, moved to where Bebe stood at the window, and threw up.

Nova glared at Rhys when he snorted. Then, as Bebe started to cradle the Bidoof until both of their light snoring echoed throughout the room, Nova moved towards Joy and touched her shoulder.

"I'm fine," Joy croaked. "I haven't… done that in a while."

Nova only shook her head. "I want you to teach me that."

"Teach you how to throw up your bloody guts out the window?"

"No, you dunce. I know how to do that. Teach me how to _heal_."

Joy offered a limp smile and shrugged, turning out to gaze at the starless night. "Mother taught me before she died."

A silence fell upon the room, louder than the snoring of all the Pokémon and Bebe, louder than the crisp falling of leaves against concrete outside.

"I'm sorry," Nova finally said. "How did she…"

Joy waved her hand dismissively. "She and her Chansey had an accident with a carriage. The Chansey escaped unharmed, but Mother completely lost both of her hands, and not even her own healing could do anything about it. So she drowned herself in a river before the knights could take her to Twinleaf."

Nova tried to bite back the bitterness that rose in her throat. She tried desperately to not roll her eyes and scowl.

But nothing – not even the glassiness of Joy's eyes – could stop her mouth from opening.

"She thought Twinleaf was that bad, aye?"

"Like you're one to talk," Joy retorted. "You ran away from Twinleaf."

"I'm going back. That's why I gave away my armour – I don't need it, nor did I ever want to be a gladiator. I just want to change my name."

Joy's brows shot up. "Why would you go back there?"

"My mother needs me."

"And your father?"

Nova laughed coldly at the word – at everything it was _supposed _to mean. "I don't know my father. He was some married man who found my mother while looking for a pretty mistress. I'm just the bastard babe."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Again, the silence bled through the air, their breaths, their thoughts. Then, Joy cleared her throat.

"You should go," she said.

Nova snorted. "Oh, come on, lass, we just had a cosy little chinwag. What'd I say wrong this time?"

"No," Joy said with an exasperated huff. "I mean, if you want me to teach you healing, you need to go and find some injured Pokémon to practise on."

"And if I find none?"

Joy smiled wryly. "You're the gladiator. Get creative."

* * *

Now, dear masters and squires, readers and writers, friends and foes; you don't want to be bored with the details of these catches. For they weren't really catches.

No, no.

They were simply Rhys being a bastard.

Besides, you've probably heard the folk tales by now. _The Fat Little Zubat, _perhaps? Or _The Annoyingly Happy Budew_?

You've heard neither?

Well, surely, you _must_ have heard of: _The Fat Little Zubat and the Annoyingly Happy Budew. _

_Once upon a time, there was a fat little Zubat. She was always very sad, for she was the fattest amongst all her brothers and sisters. She could not keep up with them, and they would tease the poor wee bat. One day, she saw her reflection in the water – saw her fangs that were stuck in yet another berry – and cried, "Nobody likes me! I am so fat! I can't even fly properly!" _

_She decided to leave her cave and went far into light, where she could smell the Jubilife Markets. Where she could smell more food. More juicy, delicious berries. _

_There, she met the annoyingly happy Budew, who encouraged her unhealthy habits. She even went as far as to encourage the bat to keep eating and eating and eating. _

_And so, the bat kept eating. And one day, when she looked at herself in the reflection of the water, she noticed something different. _

_I know what you're thinking – did she realise that she was beautiful despite being too fat to fly? _

_Absolutely not. _

_She realised that there was a Shinx behind her. And a Chimchar. And a Starly. _

_Hell, even her best friend – the Budew – was grinning and skipping away, trying to offer them some berries as a token of their new friendship. _

_But the three Pokémon didn't care about friendship. They had their steely gazes locked onto the Zubat. Thirst for her blood in their eyes and fangs and nails. _

_And, as they unleashed electricity, fire, and wind at her, did she run? Did she fight? Did she hide? _

_No. _

_For she was too fat. _

* * *

"Hold her wings!"

"I'm bloody _trying_!"

"Hold her wings, damn you!"

As Joy and Nova screamed at each other, Bebe sat in the corner of her room, her Glameow swaddled in a cloth inside her arms. She watched as the two older girls fussed over the injured Zubat, Nova pressing a sodden bandage to the ragged wound across the bat's stomach, and Joy's hands trembling as they worked around the pool of blood on the mattress.

"When I told you to get creative, I didn't bloody mean cause a massacre!"

"_I _didn't bloody try to cause a massacre! It was Rhys!"

"He's _your _Pokémon!"

"Oh, shut up!"

Zubat screamed, full-throated and trembling, her agony echoing throughout the chambers as the wound along her belly bled and bled. Tric and Bailey watched nervously, Puck was fast asleep on his own corner of the bed, Rhys was admiring his handiwork, and the Budew-

Well, the Budew was grinning and cheering as Nova and Joy scrounged through the blood.

"We can't use the heal powder," Joy was saying. "It spoiled overnight."

"Can't we use the energy root?"

"I used it all on the blasted Bidoof!"

Nova swore. She ran over to Joy's pack and rifled through the phials and jars of powders and liquids – all that had been restocked in the morning, thanks to Bebe. Though her fingers were sticky with blood and her head was buzzing with everything Joy had been shouting at her to remember, she managed to rip out a couple of jars and a small flask.

"Did you say something about revival herbs? Maybe if we grind a bit with the salt or something, make some sort of paste with your ale-"

"Aye," Joy snapped. "Great idea. The ale will _set_ the powder, you stupid-"

"But what if we also add rindo leaves? You said it stops water absorption-"

Joy froze. Glanced at the whining Zubat. At the flask in Nova's hand.

"It's so ridiculous that it might work," she finally said. "Quick! Give me the flask!"

* * *

Two more nights later, and the Zubat was finally able to move again. Bailey was already trying to teach her flying lessons – though, truth be told, Bailey was just as rubbish as flying as the bat. Budew and Puck just cheered as they watched Tric and Rhys tear at each other's throats.

Hell, Nova had even decided to _keep _both the Zubat and the Budew. She had even named them; the Fat Little Zubat had become Fat Little Livia, and the Annoyingly Happy Budew had become Annoyingly Happy Leila.

As the Pokémon tore outside the inn and into the markets, with Bebe and her Glameow chasing after them, Joy and Nova sat back and rested. They could both still taste the blood and bitter medicine in their throats, and they were still shuddering from the memory of all the gore and pus they had worked though.

But they were alive. Alive, _and _not swearing bloody murder at each other.

"Have you considered not working in an inn?" Nova asked, toying with one of the phials. "Maybe work as a healer, instead? Tour the region, offer healing services to gladiators…"

Joy scoffed. "Don't be daft."

"How am I being daft?"

"Haven't you heard?" Joy straightened up and chanced a quick glance out the window. "There are these people going around Sinnoh, wearing Murkrow masks and claiming to be healers. But rumours have it that, once they take your Pokémon for healing, they don't ever give them back."

In that moment, Nova was almost tempted to dart outside the inn and check up on her own Pokémon outside. But, before she could even stand, Bebe rushed inside, her grin brighter than her blonde ringlets.

"I just saw the funniest thing!" she exclaimed. "There's this lad in the practice arena just by the markets, and he's swinging around his sword like a _madman_. None of the other gladiators even want to fight him because they're all too busy laughing at him! What a dunderhead."

Joy frowned. "Bebe, you shouldn't be calling people dunderheads."

"But you should have _seen _him, Joy! He just got his back inked, so he couldn't even stand straight. And he kept yelling out the most ridiculous things. Something about everyone being cowards, something about making everyone's faces go purple-"

Nova felt her mouth turn dry. "He said _what_?"

Bebe tossed her head back and laughed.

"That's not even the best part!" she insisted. "The poor lad is totally, completely _blind_! And one of the gladiators just challenged him, and I'm _sure _he's going to get his neck sliced off-"

Nova didn't wait for the girl to finish. She just dropped the phial from her hands, ignoring the glass that shattered beneath her boots, and rushed out the door.

* * *

**Side note: Yes, opium dens were very much Victorian era. However, after a bit of research, I quickly learnt that opium was also used in the medieval ages. Huzzah! **

**A quick recap of all Pokémon, because, boy, I've introduced a few:**

**Tric the Chimchar [starter]**

**Bailey the Starly [Lake Verity] **

**Puck the Bidoof [Route 201]**

**Rhys the Shinx [Route 202]**

**And our newcomers: **

**Leila the Budew**** [Route 204]: Named after Leila, from Leila's Secret by Kooshyar Karimi. **

**Livia the Zubat**** [Ravaged Path]: Named after Olivia, from Lady Midnight by Cassandra Clare. **

**I also may as well confirm now, though some of you may have already guessed, that the narrator is actually one of the characters within the story (who you may or may not have met). It is a first-person story, without the 'I', since the 'I' is not Nova. **

**Also! Songs! A dear friend of mine, Fuzzboy, suggested a song that suits this story, and he was spot on. I would love to share it, however, I'm going to wait, because there is a moment in the story where the song just fits **_**perfectly**_**. **

**However, for now, the best song I can suggest for anyone who is curious is Children of Time, by End of Silence. It is an epic trailer song, and while you listen, I suggest you picture the following: ballroom dancing, a lot of fighting, soaring through the skies, a crying mother, knights, crowns, blood, a statue of a certain legendary Pokémon, and time freezing. **

**Oops? Have I said too much? **


	10. Chapter IX

**Chapter IX**

Nova darted through the hustle and bustle that was the Jubilife Markets, ignoring the small screams as she stepped over people's toes. In the daylight, it was impossible to get through the stalls and masses of people; though it had only been minutes, Rhys had _accidentally _zapped Pokémon that were stuck in cages, Bailey had knocked lumps of cabbage onto the muddy ground, Leila had tried befriending about ten other children, and Tric's fingers were sticky with something that smelt suspiciously like droppings.

Luckily, Livia the Zubat and Puck the Bidoof had stayed back with Joy, who tended to their wounds. Nova was sure she wouldn't have been able to handle all six of them.

They made their way to the practice ring, where blood slashed the ground, where chains and broken fragments of swords lay buried in the ground.

Sure enough, Barry was there, swinging his sword hysterically, nearly slicing at his own Piplup. And, surrounding him, their grins almost malicious, were two small kids.

Nova slowed as she approached them. There was something about those two small kids that didn't seem _right _– they were moving perfectly in sync, as if their feet were following a tune that only the two of them could hear. Their faces and golden eyes were identical, and though the girl had bright pink hair while the boy's was a bright blonde, Nova was certain they were twins. They wore the same blue fabric, their heads moved in the same jerky way, and even their voices curled through the air in perfect harmony with each other as they yelled at Barry.

"Will you not fight us, Gladiator Barry of Twinleaf?"

"Oh, sister, do leave him. He doesn't look like he can even hold his sword."

"But, _brother_, I _know _him. Remember! I told you about him! He was the one fighting the Starly…"

Barry scowled. "We do _not _talk about the Starly."

"By the heavens, why not?" the pink-haired girl asked, feigning innocence. "Was it not you who was crying out, _oh, ouch, you pecked me bollocks?_"

"I said-"

The sound of Nova's sharp footsteps shut all of them up. Both the kids regarded her curiously, and Nova could have _sworn _that the girl's eyes widened. She nudged her brother, whispered something hastily in his ear, gestured furiously at the four Pokémon behind her.

And Nova couldn't help but shiver as the boy's eyes lit up.

It was as if they _recognised _her.

"Alright, what the hell is going on here?" Nova snapped.

Barry's eyes went wide, and he yanked his helm off his head. "Nova? Yer _alive_?"

"Of course I'm bloody alive," Nova answered. She turned towards the two kids and their stupidly wide grins. "And who are these two little snots?"

"My name is Meryl," the girl quickly chimed in. "This is my brother, Ulysses. We're triplets."

Nova arched her brow. "There are two of you."

"And what's your point?"

"No point," Nova quickly said. "Though, what are you doing here? Where are your gladiator belts?"

"Pa won't let us be gladiators," the boy – Ulysses – said. "No coin to sponsor us. And he says that it'll make Ma angry."

Nova cocked her head and nodded sympathetically. "Aw, poor wee babes. That means you can piss off, aye, and leave my friend alone?"

"Naw," Meryl cut in. "Barry promised us a game!"

"A game?"

"Arrow on the Apple!"

Ulysses nodded. "You're the apples. We're the arrows. We aim our arrows at you, and you try to not get shot. Care to join?"

"Piss and blood, _no_," Nova said. "I don't fancy losing my bloody head."

Meryl frowned. "But you'll still play with us, aye, Barry of Twinleaf?"

"Sure thing, lass. You ain't usin' real arrows, though, aye?"

Nova stepped away from the twins and Barry, and out of the arena. Bailey found his spot on her head, Tric rest upon her shoulder, and Rhys scowled as Leila shared his spot in Nova's arms.

But Nova wasn't looking at them. She was looking at the gladiators surrounding the arena, watching as the little snots fired arrow after arrow at Barry, laughing as he yelped whenever a feather of the arrow brushed his cheek.

Slowly, though, their laughs turned into silence.

Because Barry, as it turned out, was a _master _at dodging arrows.

He ducked through them at just the right second, slipping and sliding through the dust and hail of arrows as if he were merely dancing. Even though he couldn't see – hell, even though Nova wasn't sure that he could _hear _with the massive bloody helm over his head – he didn't once come close to being shot.

His Piplup – and apparently, a Starly, too – were beside him, chirping and crying out as arrow after arrow soared at his throat. And, while the Starly gusted away the arrows that moved too dangerously close, the Piplup was content in the corner of the area, chirping and hissing, and it took Nova a second too long notice that it wasn't just screeching aimlessly.

No.

It was giving out _instructions_. And Barry was speaking right back at it.

"_Pip_!"

"Good call, Piplup!"

"_Pip-Pippi!" _

"Wait, what do ya mean, the other left?"

The game went on, and the twins kept shooting, kept strumming the bowstring with their arrows. A crowd had gathered, scowling at the blind gladiator, and Nova couldn't help but feel bile rise up her throat.

What if they saw Barry as a threat?

What if they tried to _kill _him because he was a threat?

"Wait!" Nova cried out suddenly. "I'll play."

The twins stopped and grinned. Even Barry offered a lopsided smile. "Jealous, aye?"

"Of course not," Nova said, rolling her eyes. "I just don't think two against one is fair."

"Well, you don't see me sweatin', do ye?"

Nova ignored him and faced Meryl. "I'll play, but I have one condition. I want to play where no other gladiators can see us."

The twins exchanged wicked grins yet again, and this time, Nova couldn't stop the goosebumps from rolling up her arms.

"You have a deal, November of Twinleaf," Meryl said.

* * *

For the life of her, Nova could not understand how Barry found the game so easy.

She was barely keeping herself alive, let alone her Pokémon. Meryl and Ulysses had stopped aiming at Bailey, who had buried himself somewhere in the dirt after crashing, Tric had accidently set fire to one of the nearby shrubs, and Rhys was taking a nap as Leila used vines to whip away arrows that were close to hitting the sleeping Pokémon.

Meanwhile, Nova's body was humming with pain as she twirled away from yet another arrow. The sun broke through the trees and thick tumble of branches above her, and it was so damned bright that she almost couldn't see the overgrown roots and wildflowers, nor could she see the glint of each silver arrow. Fallen leaves crunched beneath her boots, and though the smell was as clear and fresh as water, Nova felt like she was breathing in nothing but agony.

Meryl loosed a shot near Nova's toes, and the gladiator swore as she leapt back.

"_Shit_!"

"Nova?" Barry called out, his voice thin behind the constant rustling of the shrubs and swaying of the grass. "You alright?"

"No, I'm not al-bloody-right," she snapped. "How are _you _so good at this?"

Barry shrugged, and upon hearing Piplup cry out, he moved swiftly to the side and let his hair fall into his face as the arrow slammed into the tree behind him. "The arrows are too fast to see."

"Aye, you think I haven't worked that out, yet?"

"So _don't _see it. Close your eyes."

"That's the worst bloody advice I've ever heard."

Barry snorted. "My eyes ain't workin', are they? And I'm doing better than yer stinky rump."

Nova hated to admit it, but Arceus be _damned_, he was right.

And so, she closed her eyes. She listened to the way the leaves danced to their own tune, whispering their songs to the wind. She listened to the chirping and crying out of all the Pokémon, and the occasional hoots from Meryl and Ulysses. She listened to the way the arrows zipped past the rotting oak trees, snapping branches and falling flat against stone.

She heard a whistle to her left. Heard Tric call out.

With a swift step to her right, she felt a cold breath of air against her face. Heard the sharp _wsssshhthunk _as an arrow hit a tree.

The minutes flew on like that, and Nova became keenly aware that, somehow, the twins _still _had not run out of arrows.

That's when she felt one of the arrows fly past her, only to _change direction_ and fall behind her feet.

That's when she realised that her waist was suddenly very, _very _light.

Very, very light despite the belt that should have been weighing it down.

_Oh, shit. _

Nova's eyes flew open, and for a second, she only watched as a pink light surrounded the arrows. They were moving wildly – swooping through the air like birds, gliding through the trees as if the beams of metal were living and breathing.

And, as she glanced down, she realised that a pink light surrounded her belt.

And that pink light was carrying her belt _away_ from her.

Nova's eyes found Meryl's golden ones. They stared at each other for a long moment, both girls sweating and panting and shaking.

Finally, the pink light eased away. The belt found its place back around Nova's waist.

Nova wasn't sure whether she had imagined it or not. For, all of a sudden, the pink light was gone, and the arrows were firing with the same, normal ease and grace as they had before. Her belt was back around her waist, Meryl was no longer staring at her, and, and-

From the corner of her eyes, Nova saw a flash of gold. A pale snout. Pointed ears.

_An Abra? _

That's when all the pieces clicked in her head.

These weren't normal children. These were _thieves_.

"What's wrong, November of Twinleaf?" Meryl asked. "Tired?"

Nova shook her head. "I'm fine. I just wanted to tell my Pokémon a new strategy."

She turned and eyed all four of them with a sharpness that made even Rhys leap to his feet.

"My champions," she told them. "I want you to _get creative_."

* * *

Tric was the first to understand exactly what Nova meant.

With his gaze locked on the Abra around the tree, he outstretched his claws and lunged, ready to bite into the Pokémon, ready to sink his teeth into its shoulder-

The Abra teleported, and Tric crashed into the tree.

By then, the others had caught on. As soon as the Abra appeared against, right behind Tric, Rhys was there. The Shinx's claws ripped into the Abra, ready to slash at its eyes and make it bleed and cry-

Once again, there was no blood. No tears.

The Abra was gone.

Even Leila the Budew tried her luck, her vines raised, curling around the Abra as soon as it appeared.

But, before she could tighten her grasp, the Abra teleported again.

For the Abra, it was almost a game. A very fun game in which the other Pokémon were pathetic morons that couldn't land a scratch on him. He even snorted as Bailey the Starly yanked himself out of the dirt and tried flying towards him, talons outstretched.

Except, the Abra had counted on Bailey aiming straight for him. He had counted on the beak hitting its mark on his heart.

He _certainly _hadn't counted on Bailey being the clumsiest bird to take the skies.

So, when he teleported inches to the right, all he could do was hiss as the bird took a sudden swerve towards him.

What happened next, you ask?

It's a little complicated, you see. For, between one blink and the next, with only a sharp white glow breaking through the air, Bailey was no longer a Starly.

He was a _Staravia_.

A Staravia with his talons digging into the Abra's shoulders.

"I _knew _it," Nova cried out. She rushed over to her Pokémon, who were all staring at Bailey in absolute awe. "You snots are _thieves_."

The arrows stopped, and Barry's jaw dropped. "Wait, hang on a second-"

Nova ripped her sword out of her belt and raised it to the Abra's throat, her gaze falling on both Meryl and Ulysses. "The two of you are thieves, _and _you're making this Abra do your dirty work for you."

"Your Pokémon evolved," Ulysses pointed out. "Don't you want to talk about that instead? It's far more riveting."

"Sure," Nova said with a snort. "I suppose we can talk about Bailey after I slice your Abra's throat off, aye?"

Meryl's face paled. "No! Please don't hurt our brother. We'll return the gold. And the daggers_._ And you can take all of our coin-"

"I don't want your coin."

"I mean, I wouldn't mind some extra coin," Barry was saying, but his mouth slammed shut as his Piplup stomped on his boot.

Nova lowered her sword away from the Abra and stormed up to Meryl and Ulysses. She crouched slightly, and with her eyes staring straight into theirs, she said, "I want you to teach me and my friend how to shoot like that."

"With or without the Abra's help?" Ulysses asked.

"Without."

Meryl opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, all of them – the twins, the Pokémon, and Nova – winced as Barry ran and slammed his shield into a tree.

"Ha! I got yer rump now, aye, little thieves- ah, shit, the twins don't come with splinters, do they, Nova?"

* * *

Nova's arrow struck the strawman in the leg, and though her fingers were bruised and throbbing, she ripped another arrow from the pack Meryl had given her, and aimed for the strawman again.

The twins had spent hours teaching them the basics – holding the bow, firing the arrows, listening to the wind. And yet, Nova _still _couldn't even get near the strawman's heart. Hell, it was a miracle whenever her arrow landed on the strawman at all. And even when Nova accidently struck the arrow right beside her own feet, Leila cheered and clapped her vines together.

Really, it was a miracle that Nova hadn't turned around and shot the Budew square in the chest.

While the other Pokémon rested, with Meryl and Ulysses humming softly in their ears, Nova and Barry aimed arrow after arrow into the two strawmen Meryl had found for them.

"How's your back?" Nova asked, watching as Barry managed to bury an arrow into the strawman's eye with only one chirp from his Piplup. "Have you had it inked?"

Barry winced. "It hurt like a motherstinkin' _bitch_. No one told me it would take eight bloody hours."

_Eight hours? _

Nova almost choked. She hadn't remembered the inking along _her _back taking that long.

"Lucas was really odd 'bout it, too," Barry added. "When I told him I couldn't read, he swore and made a fuss, and then spent eight hours of hell hammering that stupid needle in me back."

"Eight hours? _Really_?"

"Yeah. Wanna see?"

Nova felt her stomach churn at the thought of the ink along her own back – the stupid branding of slavery that was heavier than all the armour in the world.

"No," she told him, shooting another arrow. This one landed in the strawman's hand. "I don't want to see. But I _do _want to know where Lucas is. Did he make you come here by yourself?"

"Naw, lass. He brought me here, but then we heard some gladiators talkin' 'bout you. They said Duke Rowan's champion had been killed or somethin' by some wee gladiator lad. And then we saw them blood on the way here…"

Nova stopped to watch Barry's arrow slice through the air and strike the strawman in the nose.

She had counted on the small gladiator boy to go tell others that he had beaten her rump – hell, she had _asked _him to do that – but she hadn't excepted him to take it so far that others thought she had _died_.

"And, so," Barry continued, "Lucas dropped everythin' and went to track down the wee lad. They said he was headin' for Oreburgh, so he went straight there and told me to wait here for him. Then, he just left. He didn't even teach me how ta' use the sword properly."

Nova's eyes widened, and she risked a glance behind her. Meryl and Ulysses certainly didn't look like they were listening, with their soft humming and closed eyes. But no one could really be sure with those twins.

So, Nova brought her voice down to a whisper as she asked, "What's Lucas gonna do with the lad?"

"I dunno." Barry shot another arrow – right into the strawman's neck. "Maybe just ask if yer dead. Maybe kill him. He didn't really say."

"And you? You heard I was dead and decided to play with some wee little kids?"

Barry laughed. "I knew you weren't dead, Nova. I didn't feel it."

"Feel it?"

"Over here."

Another one of his arrows flew through the air, and, to Nova's absolute disbelief, it landed right on the strawman's heart.

"Please tell me that hit the heart and not the bollocks," Barry quickly said.

This time, Nova couldn't help it; she tossed her head back and laughed.

Yes, she had loved every second learning how to use the shield with Lucas. Yes, she had both loved and hated every moment with Joy and Bebe, who taught her how to use herbs.

But, dammit, she really _had _missed Barry.

And, before she could even reach out and yank him into a hug, a thought struck her.

An oh, so horrible thought.

"Wait," Nova said. "Did you say that Lucas was going to kill that lad for killing me?"

Barry grimaced. "Er, somethin' like that? It sure sounded like he wanted to."

"But I'm alive."

"Aye."

"But Lucas doesn't know that."

"Aye."

"So he might kill this lad for _no reason_."

"Aye- oh, _shit_."

Nova nodded. "Aye. Shit."

She turned towards her Pokémon, ready to wish Ulysses and Meryl farewell, and froze.

While all her Pokémon were there, sleeping soundly against the tree branches, the twins were no longer there, nor was their Abra. There weren't even footsteps in the sand, nor was there a single scrap of the blue tunic they had been wearing.

And, worse yet, when Nova turned back to Barry, she realised that the strawmen had suddenly disappeared.

All that remained was the bows in her and Barry's hands, and the small pack of arrows along their backs.

_Almost as if the twins – or, triplets – had never existed at all… _

* * *

**I love twins. I just had to include them. This scene was basically the scene in the game, inside the 'Trainer School' in Jubilife (where Barry is supposed to give the protagonist a map). They're a little weird, but I thought I'd give them a bigger role that just 'beat our Abra in school, and we'll give you Hidden Power!' They'll be back. Don't you worry. **

**While I tried to respond to most reviews, there was, unfortunately, one reviewer who had disabled their PMs. So, to AshXMay ROCKS: Thank you for your review! However, this story does not feature Ash, May, Drew, or any of the anime characters – so no need to worry! And while I respect your opinion, this site isn't only for advanceshipping. It's for unleashing our imagination. So, please, kindly, stop trolling. **


	11. Chapter X

**Chapter X**

**WARNING: This chapter contains sensitive topics that may cause slight discomfort to readers. Please read with caution. Nothing is described in explicit detail; only vaguely hinted at. However, for some people, this may be discomforting - so please note this as you read. If you would like someone to speak to after the chapter, my inbox is open. **

Nova didn't say a word about the twins' disappearance to Barry. She just spoke to herself like a lunatic as she 'wished the twins farewell', woke all the Pokémon, and dragged her friend towards the inn.

The second she reached the markets, wincing as the constant chatter of merchants and villagers assailed her ears, a hand grabbed at her shoulder.

"Nova!" Joy hissed. "Where did you go?"

Nova smiled sheepishly as she turned to face the pink-haired girl. "Er, Bailey evolved?"

"You've been gone for _hours_," Joy cut in, gesturing at Bebe, whose eyes were rimmed pink with tears. "Bebe and I thought you were _dead_."

"What is with everyone thinkin' I'm dead?"

Barry snorted beside her. "Well, Nova, there's this thing called wishful thinkin'..."

"Oh, shut up."

She turned back to Joy and Bebe, who were staring wide-eyed at her friend. She could see the question in their eyes – the judgment and curiosity brimming within them. With a sigh, she gently turned Barry's head so that he was actually facing them.

"Barry, the angry one who was talking just before is Joy. There's a girl next to her is a lot smaller, and her name is Bebe. They're sisters. Joy, Bebe – meet Barry. He's Sir Lucas's champion."

Joy choked. Barry smiled wryly.

"That was an attractive sound," he said.

"Joy is full of attractive sounds," Bebe told him. "You should hear her in the tavern, when she's trying to get young lads to tip her-"

Joy pinched her. "_Bebe_!"

"It's true!"

And, for a second, Nova couldn't tell whose face was flushed a brighter shade of red – Barry's or Joy's. Then, with a bemused roll of her eyes, she turned back to the healer.

"How's Puck?" she asked.

Joy snapped her gaze away from Bebe and offered Nova a half-hearted smile. "He's good. He still can't walk, but he's eating now."

"And Livia?"

"She's trying to eat all of Puck's food."

Nova grinned as she thought about the pudgy little Zubat, though she saw all her Pokémon behind her exchange pained glances. "I'll take her with me, then."

"You're going?" Bebe asked. "Where?"

"We're going ta' Oreburgh," Barry explained. "So we can talk with Sir Lucas, _and_ kick some legionary arse."

"So _Barry _can kick some legionary arse," Nova corrected. She glanced eagerly at Joy. "Did you wanna come?"

The healer shook her head. "I think I might stay here and look after Puck," she said. "I was thinking about what you said about becoming an actual, you know, healer. If I _do _want to start that, I'll need to earn some coin and buy some herbs. I thought I could try a nearby tavern, or go back to Sandgem and explain myself…"

"That does sound like a good idea," Nova admitted. "You know, if you ever need anything-"

"I know." Joy reached out and patted Nova on the cheek. "Send Lucas my love, and tell him I look forward to seeing his damned helmet off for once so I can see his face."

"You haven't seen his face?"

Joy arched her brow. "You _have _seen his face? Is it any good?"

"Only enough to make an old man swoon."

"No wonder Duke Rowan likes to keep him around."

The two exchanged wicked grins. Nova almost did laugh, had it not been for the sudden awkwardness in Joy's gaze.

"Actually," the healer suddenly said, "I was thinking… If you _do _find any Pokémon that are hurt, could you bring them to me? I can try healing them in front of lots of people, and then maybe, people will start trusting healers again. They'll realise that I'm not like those… physicians with the masks, and that I won't kidnap their Pokémon."

"Of course."

Joy smiled softly. "And, also, please do look after Bebe for me."

"Bebe's coming with me?"

Nova followed Joy's eyes, to where Bebe and Barry had ambled off towards the gates of Jubilife, snapping at each other over whether a Piplup was better than a Glameow.

And, to Nova's complete and utter horror, Bebe was _already _carrying what was left of her gear – her sack of gold (that was, really, only filled with dust), her herbs, and the few Pokéballs that remained empty.

"Oh, she's coming with you," Joy pointed out. "I don't think it was ever in question."

* * *

Nova wasn't sure that she would make it to Oreburgh.

Or, well, she wasn't sure that she would make it Oreburgh without getting any blood on her hands.

More specifically, she wasn't sure that she would make it to Oreburgh without getting any of Barry or Bebe's blood on her hands.

"The sunrise is better than the sunset."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"But the sunset is _so _much prettier," Bebe argued. "You get to see the stars come out, and the sky becomes all purple-"

Barry frowned. "Yeah, but the sunrise _sounds _better. You hear the Starly's chirpin', you hear everyone wake up and sing some tunes, and it's not so bloody cold. Sunrise is better."

"Is _not_!"

"Is _too_!"

"Is _not_," Bebe snapped again. "Nova, what do _you _think?"

"I think you're both insufferable."

They moved through Oreburgh Gate, engulfed in nothing but chilling blackness. The loose stones shifted beneath them, twisting their ankles one way and then another, and apart from Barry and Bebe's constant arguing, there were only a few sounds guiding Nova – the echo of footsteps against the rocks, the dripping of water, the chattering of teeth.

She knew within seconds of entering the cave that there were gladiators around. Some carried torches, lighting their way with the dancing flames. Some were sparring one another in the dark, their sweat and blood thick in the air.

And there were some – Nova and Barry, namely – who were clinging onto the stone walls as Tric's tail lit up their path. Even though Barry had shown her how to finally arrange the nets of the Pokéballs so that it contained the Pokémon, only Bailey the Staravia had decided to stay in (though, he more or less had gotten tangled in it after tripping over a branch). The rest of them – Rhys the Shinx, Leila the Budew, and Livia the Zubat – _insisted _on Nova carrying them.

Lazy snots, aye?

"So," Barry was saying, his Piplup muttering in his ear. "What does Joy even look like? Is she as pretty as she sounds?"

Even through the darkness, Nova saw Bebe grin.

"Well," the small girl said, "Joy has about twelve massive warts all over her face."

Nova arched her brow at the blatant lie. Bebe winked at her.

_Just go with it. _

"Aye," Nova finally said. "And she's missing an entire eye. There's only a bloody gash."

"She also has no teeth left," Bebe added.

"And her lips are green."

"She's as plump as a spoilt prince."

Nova could hardly keep the smile off her own lips as she added, "And she's got hair _all over _her tongue – each hair is about as long as a finger."

Bebe burst into hysterics, her laugh ringing throughout the cave as they awaited Barry's response.

Barry, though, only nodded slowly.

"Wow…" he said, his voice light with wonder. "She sounds _amazing_."

Before Nova could even ask if he was _serious_, she heard a voice call out over Bebe's laughter.

"Hey! Aren't those the Twinleaf Gladiators?"

There was a hoot, followed by another snarl. "You mean the ones jumpin' around with the arrows? The crips?"

The footsteps moved closer and closer, rippling through the air, louder and louder, and soon enough, Nova saw two men move towards them. One was wiping the blood on his sword against his own armour, and one was toying with the heavy bag of gold at his belt.

Both were half a head taller than Barry; a full head taller than Nova.

And both were – at the very _least – _twice the width of Barry and Nova's wiry frames.

_Gladiators. _

"Let's go," Bebe whispered. "We should get out of here."

"No," Barry shot back. "If they ask for it, we _fight_. We're gladiators, too."

Nova didn't know who to listen to – not with her pulse racing the way it was as eyed the two men.

"How about a duel?" the first one asked, his lips twisted into something cruel – something deadly. "It's about time _someone _stopped you. We can even take you on without weapons."

The second one laughed at that. "Hell, our bare hands should be enough to stop these damned crips."

And though their grins were as wicked as the knives in their belts, Nova knew that wasn't why her stomach was churning.

They reminded her of two knights that had come to Twinleaf five years ago. Two knights that she had run up to when she was but a wee lass of thirteen years, asking them if she could be a knight, too. She remembered them laughing, remembered them asking for her name, remember her telling them that she was November, and then-

And then-

_Always forget. _

Something clicked in Nova's gut – something as cold and hard as steel.

"No weapons," she told them. "If you duel without weapons, then we'll duel without weapons."

"_Nova-_" Bebe hissed, but it was too late. With a grunt, Bebe was quickly shoved away by one of the men.

Nova wasn't sure exactly how it started. She just remembered one of the one – one with dried blood all over his beard – grabbing her by the collar. She spun out of his grasp, but there was a small Pokémon behind him – a bloody _Psyduck _of all things – and it spat water into her eyes.

She stumbled back, wiping at her eyes, choking on her breath. Quick as a flash, though, Rhys was upon the Psyduck, sparks of electricity hissing as it struck the Pokémon. Even Tric was already there, yanking at the gladiator's helm, his tail so hot that the man had no choice but to rip his helmet away to stop the burning.

Without wasting a second, Nova dug her knee into his groin. And though pain splintered up her leg, she still slammed her head into the gladiator's, a sickening crack sending them both staggering back.

Nova risked a glance at Barry, who was thick in the brawl, his fist swinging at the other gladiator's round face. With Leila holding the man's head firmly in one spot with her vines, Barry stopped to listen to Piplup for a second before his fist smashed into the man's nose, spraying the air red with blood.

There was a cry behind Nova – a cry from Livia, who was struggling to fly. Nova turned, ready to save her Zubat, but it had been a mistake.

The gladiator lunged towards her, his shoulder digging into her back as he sent her to the floor. As they tussled on the cold rocks, the man wrapped his beefy arm around Nova's neck and _pushed. _

Her vision bruised black, and for a second, the air seemed to slip away from her. She could see Tric upon the man, sinking his teeth into the bare skin of his cheek, and then there was a scream of pain and the sound of bones grinding-

And suddenly, she could breathe again.

Nova slammed her elbow into the man's armoured midriff and shoved all her weight onto him. She managed to force him onto his back, her fingers around her throat, choking him with as much strength as she could muster, wondering if this was _really _what she needed, _really _what she _wanted- _

This was a life, dammit. A _life. _

Her grip faltered, and the man's hand flew to his side.

Rhys growled behind her, and only then did Nova see that the gladiator was pulling a curved dagger from his belt, swiftly slicing through the air and into her heart.

Only, it never _did _reach her heart.

For, in between one blink and the next, the man was gone.

Nova took a long, shaky breath. She moved into a crouch and stared around her.

There was Barry, panting, blood smeared all over his fist, frowning as Piplup chirped into his ear. Not too far away was Bebe, clutching onto her Glameow and sobbing into its fur despite its constant protests. Rhys and Tric were already beside Nova, Leila and Livia rushing to her as well, worry and confusion and fear in their eyes.

"They were right there," Bebe breathed out. "And then… they were gone."

But Nova wasn't looking at her. She was looking at a small, golden Pokémon that hovered to the side, at the yellow little snout and pointed ears.

Then, the Abra smiled.

And it was gone.

* * *

Within seconds of walking into Oreburgh, Nova decided that she didn't like it one bit.

Her lungs burned from the dust, and she could taste nothing but dirt on her tongue. The stones stung from beneath her boots, rough and colder than the dry air, and even the moonlight felt stale as it fell upon them.

At least, in Twinleaf, the walls of the huts had been covered in moss and ivy. Over here, the little shacks were made of old bricks – dry and crumbly, withering away in the dirt.

And though it was late at night – though there wasn't a single sound spilling through the narrow paths lined with mounds of mud – Nova saw two figures blurring into the darkness. She instantly recognised the wide-brimmed hat in one of the boy's hands, the blue streaks along his armour, the dark feathers along his helm-

"Lucas!"

The knight turned suddenly, his eyes wide behind the helm. "Nova? You're alive?"

Nova could hardly contain her laugh as she ran towards him, her feet pounding over the dust and into her face, the dirty air stinging her eyes. She almost ran straight into his arms – hell, he even looked like he was ready to hold his arms open _for _her, when they both stopped. Their faces just a metre away from one another.

She wasn't sure whether she _should _reach out for him. Was she _allowed _to embrace a knight?

"Nova," Lucas repeated. "I thought… I was told that you were dead."

Nova cracked a slight grin. "Aye, I heard. You haven't gone 'round killing young lads for me, have you?"

"He was _about _to," the boy beside Lucas said. "I was ready to chain him down to stop him from spilling blood upon my land."

They turned towards the stranger, whose eyes – though the shade of dark roses – were bright. Though he must have been at least a few years older than her, Nova couldn't have told it from a single glance; his burgundy hair was shaggy and long, his black silk shirt with its leather cuffs looked all loose and awkward, and his face was rough and scratched.

"This is Roark," Lucas said. "Prince of Sinnoh, and Legionary of Oreburgh."

"_Legionary_ only," the boy corrected. "My father and aunt tumbled our royalty into ruins. I'm lucky to even be a legionary."

Nova arched her brow at the bitterness in his voice – it seemed so at odds against his humble smile and the warmth in his eyes.

"Anyways," Lucas added, "I was never going to kill anyone. I just came to find that lad to see if it was true."

"And if it was?" Nova asked.

"I'd look for a body. Bury it. Tell your mother."

"You'd bury me? _Really_?"

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Aye. I'd dress you in the finest of gowns, dear Nova, and line your grave with roses."

And though there was the slightest hint of sarcasm in his words, Nova suspected that it wasn't entirely a lie. In fact, she _still _had to ask him about the blue streak on her shield – the shield that the old crone in Jubilife had claimed belonged to a knight. She still had to ask about the shield, his helm, why he was _still _hiding his face from everyone except her and Barry-

Before she could, though, she felt the ground rattle beneath her as Barry, Bebe, and all her Pokémon finally caught up.

"Lucas!" Barry cried out, and with some guidance from Piplup, he flung himself into Lucas's arms.

The knight patted the boy on the back, though he winced as the metal of his armour squealed against Barry's own. "You came too, Barry?"

"Of course I came! You promised to teach me how to use me sword, and then you ran off to slaughter some little snots."

Lucas chuckled, though Nova caught the glimmer in his eyes as his gaze ran over Tric and Rhys, then onto Leila and Livia. She felt her own heart swell with pride as Lucas offered her a wink.

"You're Sir Lucas?" Bebe asked suddenly, her eyes narrowed. "Why don't you ever take your helm off? Joy says she wants to see your face."

"His face isn't all that interesting," Roark chimed in. "He's a wee bit shy when it comes to it. Isn't that right, _Lukey_?"

"Do be a dear, Roark, and piss off."

Roark chuckled as he did a slight bow. "Your whisper, my will, _Lula_."

Nova decided, in that second, that she liked Legionary Roark. A lot.

"So, we gonna practise sparring, or what?" Barry asked suddenly. "I wanna kick some legionary arse."

"It's an awfully ungodly hour of the night, Barry," Lucas pointed out.

"And what? Is the _dark _gonna stop me?"

Roark grinned. "Go on, _Lucy_. Your champion awaits."

With a playful – if not somewhat rough – shove, Lucas pushed past Roark and moved towards Barry.

"We'll spar for one hour only," Lucas told him. "Then, we need rest. Do you want to come, Nova?"

Nova shook her head. "No, I'm…"

She trailed off, her face hot.

Should she just tell him that she wasn't going to battle to legionary? _Could _she tell him? After all that time he had spent sparring with her, buying her armour, holding her when she had her back inked-

"I'm tired," Nova said quickly. "I want to rest."

Lucas's face fell for a second, but he turned to Bebe and offered her a limp smile. "What about you, little one?"

Bebe didn't even pause for a beat. "I'll come!"

The three of them – Barry, Bebe, and Lucas – stalked off, leaving Nova and her Pokémon with Legionary Roark.

"You've been friends for a while, I take it?" Nova said, gesturing towards the knight that was barely a shadow among the dirt.

Roark's lips stretched into a smile. "He's always been like a little brother to me." He then turned back to her, folding his arms, taking a long glance at her. "So, Twinleaf, hey?"

"My mother broke both of her legs."

"And your father?"

"Don't know him."

For a minute too long, Roark just eyed her carefully. Then, he said, "What's your mother's name?"

"Vernia."

"_Vernia_," he repeated.

And Nova could have _sworn _that he had flinched at the sound of that name.

"Do you know her or somethin'?" she asked him.

Roark took a long breath. Closed his eyes. Smiled.

"No," he said. "But it's certainly a beautiful name."

Rhys snorted at that. Nova ignored the Shinx.

"Say," she said instead, "I was wondering… when you spar with Barry tomorrow, be gentle on him, will ye? He's still new to this, and I'm scared he's gonna…"

Roark waved away her concern. "I wouldn't worry about him. I've known his patron for years, and he's one of the best knights out there. Your friend is in good hands."

"Yes, but…"

The legionary reached out and squeezed her hand.

"Barry and his patron know what they are doing," he told her. "Besides, shouldn't you be worrying about _your _spar against me?"

Nova grimaced.

_Oh, how the truth hurt. _

"I'm not sparring against you," she confessed. "I don't want to be no gladiator."

There was a flicker of relief in Roark's eyes – one that was so quick and sharp that Nova almost missed it. "No? Then why are you here?"

"I just want to change my name."

"What's wrong with your name?"

Nova wished he hadn't asked that. Hell, she wished she hadn't even mentioned her name.

Because, just like in the Oreburgh Gates, it all came rushing back to her. Her thirteenth birthday. The knights she had tried to befriend. The way she had grinned at them and told them her name.

_Always for-_

The way they had laughed and laughed and laughed. The way they had reached for her clothes, for the skin beneath them. The way she had screamed and cried and begged for help when they had ripped through the fabric and-

And-

_Always forget._

"November?" Roark asked again. "What's wrong with your name?"

Nova's gaze snapped back to him. At the concern in his eyes.

"It's shit," she said. "That's all."

Roark shrugged. "Fair reason. Say, you look a bit pale. Shall I take you to an inn?"

"Wait."

"Yes?"

Nova glanced over her shoulder, in the direction she had last seen Barry stumble through. Then, she leaned close and whispered in Roark's ear.

"I just have one more favour to ask of you, Legionary Roark…"

* * *

**Big yikes! What is Nova going to ask him? And what is with that Abra? And oops, we love a bit of trauma, don't we? **

**Anyways, a bit of shameless advertising. This story is actually part of a collection of nuzlockes that are in a single timeline. Basically, I'm handling the past in Sinnoh; Plegian Gengar is handling the present in Kanto which his story, "The Rose That Was Always Red"; and Fuzzboy is taking on the future in Hoenn (with the darling Steven Stone!) called, "For Glory, For Honor, For Hoenn". Both works are simply fantastic, and we all have such different writing styles - and this adds even more charm to the stories themselves. **

**Also, since it is one timeline, you can bet that some of my characters will go on to have descendants that will be featured in those stories, and you can bet that some of those stories will make references to folklore/characters in my story. So, if you like some cheeky little crossovers, you should get them out! ****Additionally, for your convenience, we've created a community called Pokémon Nuzlocke: Expanded Universe, which you can find on my profile. It contains all the relevant stories.**

**I think that's it for this chapter. Thank you for the reviews, and please, keep sending me your theories! I eat them up. **


	12. Chapter XI

**Chapter XI**

"Look what I got!"

Nova, Lucas, Roark, and Bebe all stared at Barry, whose grin was stretched right across his face as he pointed at his gladiator belt. The thin steel chain was no longer bare; it had a single, lone gem shining in the corner – one that shone the colour of soil, of tree bark and mud.

"When did you do that?" Lucas asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "We just woke up, for Arceus' sake."

Barry snorted. "While you were all sleeping like babes, Roark woke me up real early in the mornin' and we sparred. I got me crystal while the sun was risin'." He turned to stick his tongue out at Bebe, adding, "Another reason why the sunrise is better, love."

"I bet Nova will get hers when the sun sets," Bebe shot back.

"How much are ye willin' to bet?"

Nova rolled her eyes, though even she couldn't smile at the way Barry's cheeks glowed pink in the morning sun.

It seems that Legionary Roark _did _keep his promises.

"Wait," Lucas was saying, "Roark, why did you spar him so early in the morning? Why wake him?"

Roark shrugged. "Nova asked me to hold the spar early in the morning, so that none of the other gladiators would see it."

The knight frowned at Nova from behind his helm, but she saw the realisation in his eyes – the understanding. If none of the gladiators saw Barry as a threat, she wouldn't have to worry about them slicing his neck off while he or his Pokémon were resting. Now, all she needed was to find a way to get him to _hide _the damned belt-

"I can't believe he actually beat Legionary Roark," Bebe grumbled. "I can't believe it."

Barry tried to reach out and ruffle her hair, but ended up rubbing her ear. "His Cranidos was so bloody loud that I could hear it breathin' from a mile away," he explained. "Besides, me Piplup knew what she was doing."

"He's right, you know," Roark added. "He was fantastic. His Piplup, too, nearly ended up flooding the entire field."

"Naw, did ya hear that, Nova? I'm _fantastic_. Making yer cheeks blue yet?"

"Very," Nova replied, though, truth be told, blue cheeks didn't quite cover what she was feeling. She was feeling just about every shade she could think of – she was yellow with joy, green with relief, purple with pride.

Barry laughed again, toying with the belt. "Say, what colour is the crystal, anyways?"

"The colour of shit," Bebe replied smugly.

"Bebe, language!" Nova and Lucas snapped simultaneously, earning themselves a bemused glance from Roark.

Barry, though, seemed unfazed. "Hm, what kind of shit, Bebe? Light shit, or dark shit?"

"_Barry_," Lucas cut in. "Don't encourage her-"

"It's light," Bebe quickly said. "Light-"

"_Shit_!" Roark suddenly hissed.

"Yes. That."

But Roark wasn't listening. His face had paled, and his burgundy eyes were dim with worry. "No, as in, _shit_, I forgot to feed Frazer."

"Frazer?" Nova repeated.

The legionary shot her a watery smile. "Would you like to meet him?"

* * *

The gold pits were full of everything _but _gold, though Roark insisted that with a small pick-axe, that would change. For now, though, Nova could only see mud and crumbling rocks as she peered down the gully between the two stone cliffs.

With her sword and shield left in the inn, she couldn't help but feel naked at the sight of other gladiators who were lined along the cliff, their laughing and shouting and howling enough to shake the ground. She tried to keep her chin down at the labyrinth of tunnels and trenches running along the ground, at the pits and holes which must have led to underground tunnels.

To her own surprise, she wished she hadn't left most of her Pokémon at the inn. Only Tric was with her now, his flame burning bright beside her ear.

"He's hiding right now," Roark was saying. "But you'll see him soon enough. Frazer is the giant Onix who lives in these trenches. Gladiators have the choice to either spar with me, or slay Frazer. Anyone who slays him – or, at the very least, _tame_ him – instantly gets the Oreburgh crystal."

Nova felt both Bebe and Barry tense beside her. She, herself, shuddered at the thought – if she _was _planning on being a gladiator, she sure as hell would have preferred a spar with Roark, whose smile was certainly more gentle and sweet than the trenches beneath her.

"Has anyone tried it yet?" Lucas asked.

Roark nodded, pointing at a small clutter of white that lay in a heap within the mud. At first, Nova couldn't work out what it was through all the red mud.

But then she realised that it wasn't red mud. It was _blood_.

Blood that was splattered along broken, gnawed bones.

"There's a Machop there, too," Bebe pointed out. "And a Geodude."

"They belong to the last gladiator," Roark told her. "Their gladiator tried to take on Frazer, but Frazer ate him. Now, those two Pokémon are trapped in there."

Barry's face paled. "Trapped there? Forever?"

"Until Frazer decides that he's sick of waiting for me to feed him and decides to eat them, of course."

Nova leaned closer to glance at the Machop and Geodude, and she couldn't help but feel her heart ache at the sight of their tear-streaked faces, at the sight of their bloodied limbs and hysterical eyes-

Something slammed into Nova's back, and she cried out, her stomach sinking and soaring at once because she was falling and falling and-

Mud squelched as Nova slammed into it. It smelled atrocious, and she could hardly swallow her gag, but it was nothing compared to the rattling ache of her bones. Tric – who had somehow stayed latched onto her shoulder – was whining, and as she listened to him, she felt her heart falter.

She had fallen _into _the trenches.

She had fallen into Frazer's home.

"Barry!" Roark was hissing from above.

From down in the trenches, the faces of her friends were hardly the size of her nail. And yet, she could see Barry frown as he said, "What?"

"You pushed Nova into the trenches!"

"I did _not_!"

Roark sighed. "Barry, I understand that it's not easy for you to see-"

"I can't see, but I sure as hell can _feel_!" Barry snapped. "And I know I did _not _push my best bloody friend into anything!"

"Both of you, _shut up_," Lucas suddenly snapped. He peered over the edge and yanked his helm off, his blue eyes wide with panic as he glanced down at her. "Nova, listen to me. Stay very still. I'm going to get your Budew, and we can use her vines to lift you-"

Bebe cut him off. "If we save Nova and Tric, can we also save the Machop and Geodude?"

"No," Roark said, and when his eyes landed on Nova, she could have _sworn _she saw the barest hint of hope in them. "The Pokémon must remain there until another gladiator saves them."

His words felt like a stab to Nova's gut.

Every part of her body screamed at her to get the hell out of the trenches – get the hell away from Frazer the Onix.

And yet, she couldn't leave the Machop and Geodude by the pile of bones. She couldn't leave them to _die_.

She glanced back up. Bebe, Barry, and Lucas were all pale, staring down at her in despair.

But there was a challenge in Roark's eyes as he glanced sympathetically at the Machop and Geodude.

"I'll do it," Nova finally said.

Lucas swore. "Nova, _no_-"

But it was too late.

For, just like that, Nova had started her first legionary battle.

* * *

All the gladiators that had stood to hoot at Frazer were now staring down at Nova, their voices quieted to a murmur, silent enough that Nova could hear a guttural kind of grumble – a vibration in the ground as something slithered along the rocks.

Then, Nova saw it. She saw the giant worm of rocks, the mouth that was filled with ring after ring of razor-sharp teeth, the way the Frazer's body twisted through the trenches with ease.

And, sure enough, she ran.

With Tric in her hands, she slid and slipped over the mud, hurtling down wherever her aching legs were ready to take her, hotly aware that she could find herself at a dead end, where she would most definitely be _damned_-

The gladiators above her roared, drowning out the gnashing sounds of the Onix, but Nova didn't risk a glance over her shoulder. She reached a fork and veered sharply to the left, only to find herself at another fork. Once again, she took the left, wondering frantically if she would make a full circle, if she could somehow wind up _behind _the Onix.

She knew it was stupid – especially since she could barely keep ahead of it.

But the thought had cost her. She slammed into slick muck as she slipped, and mud – cold, reeking, and smothering mud – coated her skin. With Tric's murmur in her ears, she wiped the mud from her eyes, ignored the laughing of the gladiators above her, and tried to get up-

She almost screamed as she realised that she was stuck. And the smell was growing worse by the second, and though Tric pushed and pulled at her, the mud was too slick and held fast.

The trenches shook as if it were being struck by thunder. Nova could almost feel the Onix's hot breath upon her, could _definitely _hear Frazer's teeth slashing through the air, closer and closer and closer-

_No. Not like this. _

Nova clawed at the mud. She twisted and wriggled and kicked and pushed, sobbing as the ground shook, as a stench as awful as the mud cloaked her, as the hot air struck her body-

_Not like this_.

"Tric," she hissed. "Hide yourself. In the mud."

The Chimchar choked and stared at her with anxious eyes.

"_Please, _Tric. Forget me. Save yourself."

Again, the Chimchar only stared.

"_Do it_, you bloody idiot. Otherwise I will never forgive you."

And so, as Nova heard the Onix's clicking teeth approach, she let herself breathe at the sight of Tric throwing himself into a heap of mud – completely out of sight.

Unlike her.

However, as Frazer approached, he paused to sniff. The Onix frowned then, sniffing again, clicking his teeth, and then, he made a sharp turn towards Nova and-

And he slid straight past her.

Nova didn't have time for tears of relief. She just stared as the Onix moved away from her, his body so close that he almost slid straight over her legs. The mud loosened around her, but she didn't dare crawl out – not while her mind was reeling the way it was.

The way Frazer the Onix had sniffed, the way his eyes had wandered aimlessly, the way he had _completely _gone past her even though she had been _right there_, mud coating her skin-

It was familiar. It was familiar because-

_Oh, Arceus. _

Frazer the Onix was _blind_.

Once the beast was far enough that she could no longer hear it, Nova heaved herself up – swearing at the mud – and heard Tric rip away from his mound of dirt to reach for her shoulder. She still could hardly stand, and so she twisted onto her hands and knees, crawling, patting the ground, moving further into the darkness-

And fell into another pit.

The mud softened her landing, but her muscles still sang from the impact.

But nothing was broken. For now, that mattered the most.

Nova felt Tric whimper in her ear as she gasped for breath, as something beneath her boot crunched hard. She saw a gleam of white, saw Tric gag, and nearly threw up herself.

Bones, bones, bones.

Bones of every shape and size. Bones that were bloodied, and bones that had been licked clean. Bones that were as small as fingers, and bones that were long and curved like sabres.

She heard a wail, and froze as she found the Machop and Geodude that sat on the other end of the pit. If she hadn't pitied them so much, she may have thrown a bone at them to shut them up as they continued to cry out at her.

The bloody _idiots _were going to get her killed. Frazer was sure to hear their howls, and once he did-

Seconds passed. Minutes passed.

And though the Pokémon kept howling, Frazer never came.

Tric was the first to understand. He held Nova's attention, pointing at his ears, at the wailing Pokémon, at his ears again-

Finally, Nova felt realisation strike her.

The Geodude and Machop were _helping _her. They were trying to tell her something.

They were trying to tell her that Frazer the Onix was completely, utterly _deaf_.

Nova glanced at her grinning Chimchar, at the curved bones around her.

And suddenly, she had a plan.

She rushed to the wall and grabbed a fistful of the reeking mud, smearing it across her face. She coated her hair and her neck, her fingers and her ears, ignoring the way her eyes watered and the way the gladiators hissed above her. She even went as far to roll in the mud along the ground, ensuring that every inch – every single bloody inch – was covered.

"What is she doing?" Bebe's soft voice asked from above.

Nova glanced up to see Lucas's eyes twinkle.

"Frazer the Onix uses his scent to see," he answered. "And Nova just became invisible."

~.~

Frazer the Onix was very, _very _unhappy.

He had smelt something truly delicious – blood and flesh and _meat_. _Human _meat.

But then, just as he had been _so close_, it was gone. And all he could smell was the mud and stone he had been stuck with for years. He couldn't even smell the bits of smoke that seemed to follow the human meat, nor could he smell the sand and steel that had cloaked her scent.

Gone. Gone as if it had never been there. Gone as if-

Frazer froze as he took a long breath.

He still couldn't smell the sand or steel or meat. He couldn't even smell the thick, metallic bones that usually lined his walls.

But he could smell the smoke. Lots and lots of smoke.

His massive body sliced through the mud as he scrambled for the smoke and ash, as he flipped through turn after turn, raging and crashing through the bones, his stone body almost _flying_-

Usually, he knew when he was nearing the mouth of the pit. Usually, he knew to slide out to the side once he could smell the blood and bone.

Except, usually, that smell wasn't completely hidden behind the smell of smoke.

Pain barked through his body and head as he fell onto the ground. Someone – that stupid _human _– had angled all the bones in such a way that their sharp edges stuck out of the ground, and they cut at his rocks, made him flinch and roar-

He couldn't smell her, still. He could only smell his own pain. He could only smell fire – so much fire, all around him, each flame licking and dancing at his face. Surrounding him. Burning him.

And though he tried to twist away from the heat, he couldn't. One of the bones – the Mamoswine tusk, probably – had sliced through one of the rocks along his body, and a wet crunching noise filled the air as he realised that it had impaled him, that the bloody human had _trapped _him, that it hurt and hurt and_ hurt_-

It was too much for him. The fire. The pain in his impaled stone body.

And he _still _couldn't smell her.

Maybe if he hadn't been so overwhelmed – so distracted – he would have felt the air turn even warmer as a Pokémon launched itself towards him. Maybe he would have smelt the smoke thicken as that Pokémon glowed brightly in mid-air, as it evolved from a Chimchar to a Monferno.

Maybe he would have felt the onslaught of cold air as the Monferno's fist slammed into his face.

But he didn't.

And, so, Frazer the Onix toppled to the ground, agony rattling his every stone. He strained to get up, tried desperately to click his teeth-

Finally, Frazer let his head fall into the mud.

Only then did the fire stop burning around him. Only then did he stop smelling smoke and mud, and instead, start smelling human.

If he could see, he would have seen a girl wipe the mud off her body and move towards him, her body bruised and smudged, her hair tangled. He would have seen a Monferno close his eyes as he stopped spitting flames from his mouth. He would have seen the girl hug that Monferno tightly before stepping closer, her eyes almost sympathetic.

If he could _hear_, he would have heard her say, "I am Nova of Twinleaf, and, from now and on, you obey me."

And if he could speak, Frazer the Onix would have said _yes_.

And so, dear masters and squires, readers and writers, friends and foes, whether she liked it or not, that is how our sweet little November earned her first legionary crystal.

* * *

**For those of you who would like a song to put to this chapter, try "Champion" by Tommee Profitt. Or, if you have any recommendations for me, let me know! **


	13. Chapter XII

**Chapter XII**

"How did you know I would need yer help?"

"Nova," Joy said with a long sigh. "We both know that you couldn't survive more than two suns without my help."

With the blackness of night falling over their shoulders, Nova and Joy sat in the trenches, tending to the gladiator, Tric, and the three Pokémon she had decided to keep – Jupiter the Geodude, Lorcan the Machop, and Frazer the Onix. The mud lay in warm ruts beneath them, dark brown in the moonlight, and even darker brown against Joy's long skirts.

"Rumours were spreading fast," Joy finally said. "There was gossip about a gladiator who had slipped into Frazer's home. I was sure that no one was stupid enough to stand so close to the edge and fall in, and then I remembered you."

"For someone named Joy, you're a glorified pain in the arse."

"A glorified pain in the arse who is helping you fix up your bloody ankle. Now, sit still, will you?"

Nova scowled as Joy twisted bandages around her leg. "Besides, I was not even that close to the edge, nor did I slip. I was pushed in."

"Well, if you weren't standing so close to the damned edge, you wouldn't have been pushed in, aye?"

Before the gladiator could respond, Frazer whimpered beside her. Nova reached out for him and patted him on his back, ignoring the sharp stinging of her palm as she grazed the rocks.

"There, there, you big old crank," she murmured. "You'll be fine. I'm sorry I had to break yer back, but you gotta learn to stop trying to nip people, aye?"

Frazer moaned again, and this time – to everyone's surprise – he laid his head gently in Nova's lap and sighed.

"I don't understand," Joy said. "He's blind and deaf, and yet, he understands everything you say."

There was a glint of gold at the corner of Nova's eye – one that had nothing to do with the gold hidden behind the mud, and one that she was becoming far too familiar with.

"I think the Abra is talking to it for me," Nova explained, gesturing towards the psychic-type that hovered just beside Tric.

Joy followed Nova's gaze and frowned. "What Abra?"

"The Abra right there."

"There is no Abra there, Nova."

Nova choked on her breath and stared at the psychic-type.

It was _right _there, with blue light pulsing from its fingers, with a stupidly big grin on its face. How could the healer _not _see it? Were Meryl and Ulysses jesting about with her?

"How hard did you hit your head when you slipped into the trenches?" Joy asking, placing the back of her hand against Nova's cheek. The gladiator hissed, and the healer immediately backed off, muttering, "Not hard enough, apparently."

There was a soft scrape from behind them, and as Nova peered over her shoulder, she grinned. Lucas had slid down the trenches in nothing but his silk shirt and britches, and mud streaked his clothes and his face as he moved towards them.

"Lucas!"

Despite the pain in her muscles – despite her throbbing ankle – she leapt onto her feet and ran into his arms.

She didn't give a damn that she was a slave, and that he was a knight.

She was bloody _alive_. For now, that was all that mattered.

"Oh, Arceus," he breathed out into her hair, chuckling. "You stink."

"Will you shut yer trap and bloody hold me?"

Lucas rolled his eyes, but nonetheless, he let her press her head against him. "You know, I thought for sure I would have to jump in to save your arse, Nova."

"_Please_. I would have ended up saving _your _pretty little rump, bastard."

"Watch it," he warned her. "Must I remind you of all the coin you owe me for destroying my cart _and _sending Flint's Rapidash running?"

"Are you blackmailing me, Sir Lucas?"

Joy's voice echoed behind them, all strangled and raw. "_Sir Lucas_?"

They both turned towards the healer, whose face was mottled red.

And it took Nova a second too long to realise that Joy was not blushing.

No, Joy was _furious_.

"Joy, this is Sir Lucas," Nova introduced. "You know, er, the knight you were nattering up in the inn back at Sandgem. This is his face. Without the helm."

Lucas winced. "How do you do, Lady Joy?"

"You little arsehole," Joy hissed, harsh enough to make both the gladiator and knight flinch. She glanced at Nova, at Lucas, at his lopsided grin. "We need to talk _now_."

* * *

Nova knew that she shouldn't have been eavesdropping. But, dammit, she just couldn't help herself.

Besides, Tric the Monferno was right beside her, his ear pressed to the thin door of Joy's room in the inn. Even Leila, Bailey, and Rhys were there, listening intently, wincing as the thick smell of berries and oils slipped out from beneath the door.

"You're an arsehole, you know that?" Joy was saying, her voice sharp enough to make even Rhys narrow his eyes.

Nova heard Lucas sigh. "Joy, listen-"

"No, you listen to _me. _Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"I already know what you think of my father, and I feared I would-"

"It's not _that_. You know it's not that, you lying bastard."

"Aye," Lucas snapped. "I _am _a lying bastard. I'm not even supposed to be here, Joy. I'm supposed to be looking for Queen bloody Cynthia, who thought it would be fun to piss off somewhere and disappear from Sinnoh, and I keep having to lie to all the other knights and villagers about her because no one can know she's gone, and then I wound up in Twinleaf on a stupid hunt to find her, and I was never supposed to sponsor some young lad to be a gladiator, and I have to lie about _that _too-"

Joy snorted. "Why don't you just tell everyone the truth, then?"

"Because of _her_."

"Her?"

"I don't want her to know."

There was a moment of thick, heavy silence. Nova pressed her face closer to the door, straining her ears, urging Bailey to stop scratching his talons against the wooden floorboards-

"You can't keep lying," Joy finally said.

"I won't keep lying. I'm just waiting for the right time."

"Something both of us should know by now, sir, is that there is no such thing as a right time here. You, of all people, should know that. Especially after what your father did to-"

Lucas choked. "Don't you _dare _bring that up."

"Maybe _I _should tell her. I don't know how you made Roark and Bebe shut up about it, but you can't wrap me around that pretty little finger of yours."

"Oh, bloody hell. Joy, this is none of your concern and you know it."

"It is my concern! _She _is my concern! And I want you to tell her the truth."

Before Nova could take another breath in – before she could even roll her eyes as Leila tried to spy through the crack above the floor – she found herself stumbling back as the door was thrown open.

It was almost embarrassing to glance up to see Joy glaring down at her. Almost.

But then Nova saw the tears etched onto the healer's cheeks, the fury in her gaze.

"Joy?" she called out.

The healer turned away from her. "I'm going to treat Frazer. I'll meet you in Jubilife later. Look after Bebe."

Then, she was gone.

As Leila whimpered, Nova peered through the open door and found Lucas. He was rubbing his temples, sitting beside the armour on his bed, his helm too bright as the moonlight burned through the window.

"Lucas?" Nova said. "What was _that _about?"

Lucas only offered her a limp smile. "Don't worry about it. Go bathe and get some rest."

"Is there anything you want to tell me, though?"

"Aye." He glanced down at his helm and took a long breath. "I wanted to ask you something."

Nova almost couldn't hide her grin.

Now she was _really _going to weed out some of the juicy gossip.

But Lucas only folded his arms and winked.

"May I escort you to Jubilife, young maiden?"

* * *

"It was an honour meeting you," Roark said. "It's a shame you have to go so soon."

Nova, Lucas, and Barry all turned towards the gates of Oreburgh, where Bebe was already dragging her Glameow, who was hissing at the sight of the sunrise.

It seemed that they didn't even have time for proper farewells.

"I wish you the best on your journey, soldier Barry."

"Aw, ya hear that, Nova? Legionary Roark called me a _soldier._"

Roark turned to Nova and offered her a loose grin. "And you too, sister Nova."

"Sister?" Nova repeated. "Really? Is it because I'm a motherstinkin' girl?"

"Well, yer definitely _stinkin_'," Barry chimed in.

"Maybe if _someone _hadn't pushed me into the bloody trenches, I wouldn't be stinkin' so much-"

"For the last bloody time, I did _not _push you in!"

Before they could go on anymore, Lucas grabbed them both by the arms and dragged them away with a quick farewell to the legionary. They moved through the tunnels that curled away coldly into the dark, Monferno's tail burning Lucas and Barry's armour orange as they snaked through the mud and dirt.

Nova waited for Barry and Bebe to stroll ahead and argue about something nonsensical – this time, it was about whether Roark's voice was more like velvet or silk – before she turned to Lucas.

"What were you and Joy talking about?" she whispered, even though she saw all her Pokémon roll their eyes behind her. "About your father?"

Lucas arched his brow. "Eavesdropping, were you? A lady of court wouldn't do that."

"I'm from bloody Twinleaf. Do you think I give a damn about your court rules?"

"No?"

"No. Now answer the blasted question."

Lucas glanced down at his feet and shrugged. "My father and Joy don't get along. He's a physician, too, and… Well, has Joy told you about physicians stealing Pokémon?"

"Aye."

"Well, that's him. He's one of those physicians."

They moved into the light, and Nova braced herself to see the markets, the lovers strolling hand in hand, the young maidens haggling over prices, the young lads stealing fruit from stalls.

Instead, though, she saw chaos.

In the centre of it all were three men wearing dark cloaks, Murkrow masks plastered over their faces. They were snarling at people who stepped too close, and in one of their hands, a Wurmple was spitting out webbing from its mouth, wrapping around something – no, _someone_.

Lucas swore.

"Speak of hell, and hell shall appear," he muttered beneath his breath. "They usually take Pokémon, but children now, too?"

Nova ignored him. Instead, she glanced at the screaming girl that was caught in the webbing, saw the tears run down her face, saw another bundle of white that must have been another person wrapped up in string-

"Meryl and Ulysses," she said. "We have to save them."

The three masked men caught sight of her and snorted.

But then, they saw Lucas.

And they ran.

Nova and Lucas watched as the three split off, one with Meryl, one with Ulysses, and one that had even managed to grab onto the damned Abra.

Maybe it was something in their blood – or, perhaps, it was something pulling at their hearts – that made the group split without having to even discuss it. With a single command from Lucas, Barry and his Piplup were chasing after the man with Ulysses. The knight, himself, went for the masked figure with Meryl, and with Bebe's grip tight in her hands, Nova ran for the man with the Abra.

She had plans for what she would do when she reached him – perhaps ask politely for him to give back Abra, perhaps ask Leila to wrap her vines around the man and rip off the Murkrow mask, perhaps ask Tric to burn away the string around the Abra.

But – to her amusement and horror – Rhys reached the man first.

And, dear reader, we all know what Rhys is like.

Nova watched as the Shinx sunk his teeth into the man's wrist. Blood splattered. Cartilage crunched. There was a bright glow and-

Rhys was no longer a Shinx. He was a Luxio.

The Luxio stepped back – breathing hard, trembling – as the man fell to the ground, crying out at the gash in his hand.

"Give us back the Abra," Nova finally said, moving to step beside Rhys.

The man spat onto the cobblestones. "Piss off. He's _mine_."

"He's not yours."

Rhys launched another attack on the man – a strike of thunder – and Bebe sobbed as the man crumpled to the floor and cried out and-

"_Look out_!"

Nova heard Lucas's voice too late. There was already string wrapping around her legs, her arms, her face. From the corner of her eye, she saw that Lucas, Barry and Bebe were all trapped in the same webbing, that her Pokémon were already trying to fight off the string that was reaching for their feet, that there were dozens and dozens of Wurmple surrounding them-

She felt her breath catch as the string wrapped around her mouth and nose.

_Oh, Arceus, no- _

"Staraptor. Gust."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Nova heard wind sweep around her, stinging at her knees and elbows. A draft swirled up, snatches of cold air coiled around her, around the string, loosening it, freeing her-

When she could breathe and see again, she saw her friends had also been released from the string. She saw that the men with the Murkrow masks were fleeing, leaving behind Meryl, Ulysses, and the Abra.

And she nearly pissed herself when she saw who their saviour had been.

_Duke Rowan._

"Duke," Lucas was saying between coughs. "How do you do?"

Rowan nodded grimly – as if that was response enough – and whistled at the Staraptor, who went chasing after the three men. Then, he stalked over to the twins and their Abra.

"You three need to go to your homes," he told them, kneeling down to glare at Meryl. "Enough messing around."

Meryl pouted. "But, _Duke_, we're having so much _fun_."

"You nearly got yourselves into shits. That is _not _fun."

"Indeed," Ulysses agreed. "I told you, sister, that you were being foolish."

"Well, Abra still agrees with me, right?"

Rowan raised his hand in the air, and instantly, they all shut up.

"I want you to go to your homes," he snapped. "Now."

And, with one last grin from the Abra, they were gone.

Nova took one glance at the stern line that was her patron's mouth and turned away, ready to help Lucas or Barry or Bebe onto their feet.

Oh, Arceus, did she have to embarrass herself like that in front of her own patron? Did he have to see her suffocate in the hands of bloody worms?

"November."

_Oh, shit. _

"Yes, Duke?"

"You have a legionary crystal."

"Aye."

Lucas cleared his throat. "You should have seen it, Duke," he added. "She took on Frazer. You were right about her."

And though Nova saw Tric grin all too proudly, she winced at the sight of Rowan's furrowed brows – at the question she just _knew_ he was thinking.

She tamed an Onix, but couldn't even take on some damned Wurmple?

Her patron was already moving towards her, his eyes as hard as stone, his hand raised, and for a horrible second, she was _sure _he was going to slap her.

Then, he placed his hand softly on her cheek.

And the bloody bastard even _smiled_.

"Don't die," he said curtly.

As he turned to leave, Nova couldn't help it. She scowled.

"That's it?" she called out to him. "You're not going to teach me anything? How to fight?"

"I have work to do in the forge."

Nova snorted. "You know, you're a pretty shit patron. I wish _Lucas _was my patron."

"Lucas?"

There was a glimmer of confusion – of _hurt _– in Rowan's eyes, and before Nova could really send it home, she felt Lucas loop his arm around her.

"Have a good day, Rowan," the knight called out.

"If you go to Twinleaf, send me mum some flowers!" Barry added. "Brown ones would be nice. But black ones are good, too! Or grey!"

Bebe made a face. "They don't exist, Barry."

"Have you seen one?"

"No."

"Then how can ye be sure, lass?"

"Barry, that makes no-"

As they bickered, Lucas leaned closer to Nova.

"Leave them be," he whispered into her ear. "I want to show you something."

* * *

They weren't supposed to be in the Art Colonnade – not with the reds, oranges, and purples of the sunset bleeding down onto them. But with one sly wink from Lucas, the knights guarding the entrance only grinned and ushered them in.

Nova – despite her bath in the Oreburgh inn just yesterday – felt like a lump of dirt as she walked in. The tables and chairs were draped with dark silk, the sandstone arches looked slicker than the marble tiles beneath her, and,_ by Arceus_, she felt her breath come to a stop at the sight of the canvases; canvases that told tales of great rulers and knights and Pokémon.

They moved through the halls, passing by painting after painting that showed seas of sorrows, spangled glimmers of stars piercing through the night, the eyes of old kings in the distant darkness.

Despite it all – the sheer _beauty _of it all – Nova couldn't bring herself to focus.

All she could think of was Meryl, Ulysses, and their Abra. The three men with the Murkrow masks. Duke Rowan. Joy's fight with Lucas. The fact that Lucas _still _hadn't told her why he had given her _his _shield.

And, of course, she missed the warmth of her Pokémon, who were sleeping with Bebe in the Jubilife inns.

"You okay?" Lucas asked.

Nova nodded slowly. "Just tired."

"Are you strong enough to walk up some stairs? Or must I carry you?"

"Are you sure _you're _strong enough to lift me rump?"

Lucas arched his brow. "Certainly. Especially since I hear that a certain someone sold all the armour I bought her."

_Shit. _

"Who told you?" Nova demanded. The old woman had disappeared from Jubilife, Joy was too busy wanting to rip Lucas to shreds to tell him anything, Barry didn't even _know _she had sold her armour – though he had asked why her armour was so damned quiet – and-

Oh.

_Oh. _

"It was Bebe, wasn't it?"

Lucas smiled grimly. "And I _know _you're not daft enough to give all your armour away just to save a Bidoof without even _trying _to bargain."

Nova hadn't wanted to tell him – not after everything he had done for her.

But she also knew she couldn't keep lying.

"Listen," she said, "I… The armour was fine, aye, but I just didn't think I would need it."

"You didn't think the armour would stop a bloody sword from slicing your head off?"

"I didn't think I would have to worry about swords slicing me head off because I don't want to be a gladiator. I just want to change my name in Eterna."

A heavy silence cloaked them, and so Nova turned towards yet another canvas – one where white and black paint battled one another, where there was a small boy in the centre, sleeping and dreaming and feeding the dark paint-

"Okay," Lucas finally said.

Nova whirled around to face him. "Okay? _Okay_? That's it? You're not gonna kill me, or nothin'?"

This time, Lucas laughed.

"Arceus, no," he answered. "I know you didn't want to be a gladiator. You didn't choose it in the first place, and you're a shitty liar."

"Thanks."

Lucas reached out and squeezed her hand. "Come on. I want to show you something."

They twisted up the spiral staircase, not a single bit of dust wafting from the thick carpet beneath them. There was no creak, no rot, not even a small scratch, and as Nova reached the second floor, she felt Lucas yank her towards the next flight.

"Wait," she quickly said, pulling her hand away. "What's on this floor?"

For a second, Nova was _sure _that Lucas was biting back the urge to roll his eyes. "Paintings of famous knights."

"Is there one of Sir Riley?"

"You bet there is."

"Why don't you want to have a look? I wanna know what the fuss is about his pretty face. Is he _really _all that fetching?"

This time, the knight frowned. "He's not _that _fetching, no."

"No? Is he more fetching than you?"

"I'm fetching?"

Nova shrugged and eyed his face carefully – the sharp blue of his eyes, the messy tufts of hair, the single dimple on his left cheek. "Aye. You have a very nice face. And beautiful eyes."

"If any other girl had said it, people would think she's fancying me," Lucas mused. "And yet, when you say it, it's like you're telling me the sky is blue."

"If someone has a pretty face, I'll bloody tell them they have a pretty face. That's how it should be. It shouldn't have to mean that I'm _fancying_ you."

They moved up the next flight of stairs, their footsteps hollow in the dim light. Finally, as they reached the top, Lucas froze, tilted his head to the side, and smiled.

"In that case," he said, "I think you should know that you also have a pretty face."

"Aye?"

"And beautiful hair. Or, at least, it's better now that you've actually _washed _it."

Nova reached out and punched him square on the shoulder. Lucas ducked his head – to hide his smile or to hide the pain in his eyes, Nova wasn't sure.

"Anyways," he said, gesturing for her to follow him down the hall, "I wanted to show you a picture of this dancer. You remind me of her."

"How so?"

Lucas glanced back at her, then back at the paintings along the wall. "Your hair. Long and dark. And also, when I saw you fall into the Oreburgh Trenches-"

He stopped as they reached a painting of a woman. She was clad in a beige gown, thin satin sighing around her, as if it had been swept up by the wind. And there was something painfully familiar about the way her dark hair flew out behind her shoulders, the way her eyes shimmered gold in the light, the way her cheeks burned pink-

"This is who you reminded me of," Lucas said. "What do you think?"

Nova felt her heart race. She felt her blood turn cold.

Oh, she knew _exactly _why this dancer reminded him of her.

"Lucas," she whispered. "That's my mother."

"_What_?"

"Oh, Arceus, _yes_," she breathed out. "That's _her_! My mother… She was a _dancer_?"

Lucas glanced back at the painting, then at her, his lips parted. "Aye, Lady Vernia was the _best_. They say that the winds would dance with her. Back when she danced for the royals, all the princes tried to court her. Rumour has it that she even fell in love with one. But I only heard the stories. I never actually saw her dance. By the time I was born, she had already had the accident-"

"The accident?"

"She never told you?"

Nova knew there had been _an _accident – she had already known that her mother hadn't been born with two broken legs.

But she hadn't known that her mother had been a famous bloody _dancer_ being courted by _princes_.

"She never told me," Nova repeated. "She never wanted to."

Lucas offered her another squeeze of the hand. "Some say that she tripped down the ballroom stairs, but some people say she was pushed by someone."

"And what do you believe?"

"I wasn't born yet, Nova," Lucas reminded her. "But my mother always told me that she was pushed. She said that Lady Vernia had been carrying the child of a married man, and he wanted to hide it by ridding himself of the child, so, well, he pushed her down the stairs-"

Nova took a sharp breath. "When did this happen?"

"Eighteen years ago. Maybe nineteen, now, I think."

_Oh, Arceus. _

Nova felt as if the world was spinning around her – felt as if she couldn't stay on her two feet.

"She was carrying _me_," she choked out. "The bastard was trying to get rid of _me_."

She didn't realise there were tears in her eyes until Lucas reached out to hold her. Even then, she didn't feel the warm drops sliding down her face, nor did she feel her breath catch in her throat.

Why hadn't her mother told her _any _of this? Why?

"Oh, Nova," Lucas murmured. "I'm sorry if I've upset you."

"I just want her to be okay, Lucas. I want to make sure she's okay, but I want to look after Barry, and-"

Lucas stepped back and held her by the shoulders. "I can go and check on her. But you have to promise me something."

"What?"

"After you change your name, come to Hearthome in time for the Spring Dance. Legionary Fantina always hosts it before Legionary Maylene's big trial, to celebrate the Gladiator Games."

Nova snorted. "Why should I come to that, then?"

"You owe me a dance."

"A _dance_?"

Lucas's eyes shone with amusement as she scowled. "Just one dance."

"Fine. One dance. And then _I'll _break my legs, and you'll have to face my mother's wrath, then. She's twice as scary as me."

"I didn't think that was possible."

Nova reached out to punch him again. This time, he caught her fist.

"We should go now," he told her, lowering her hand. "I promised Barry that I would spar with him tomorrow. What are your plans?"

"I promised Bebe that I would take her to see her father in Floaroma."

"Let's go, then."

Then, hand in hand, the pair of them left.

And if our dear November had been able to read, she would have seen that the plate beneath her mother's painting read:

_Lady Vernia in her debut dance, The Dance of November._

* * *

**I'll just confirm in here: Nova's mother is named Vernia, not Joanna. This is because Nova is not Dawn. **

**Also, three more catches! They're all currently in the trenches since, in-story, PCs wouldn't be built yet (Bebe is still a wee little child!). **

**Jupiter the Geodude [Oreburgh Gate] - named after Jupiter from the Nevermoor series by Jessica Townsend. **

**Frazer the Onix [Oreburgh Mine] - named after John Frazer from The Affair by Lee Child.**

**Lorcan the Machop [Route 207] - named after Lorcan Lochan from the Throne of Glass series by Sarah J Maas. **

**Not all Pokémon I introduce will be used; however, I will introduce them all so that you can't work out who dies based on which types I have double-ups of. (; **


	14. Chapter XIII

**Chapter XIII**

"I can't _wait _for you to meet Papa!" Bebe chirped. "His name is Theron, but everyone just calls him the Driftloon Fella. He's been trying to use these Driftloon to make energy or something."

She and Nova moved through a meadow that shimmered like a sea of green over the hillock. They stepped over the purple thistles, over the deep grass that waved in the spring breeze, over the poppies that burned crimson in the morning light.

Nova's Pokémon screamed behind her as Tric's tail lit yet another flower on fire. Only Rhys rolled his eyes as Bailey and Livia tried to bat it out with their wings, as Leila cheered them on with a wave of her vines.

"Are you sure we shouldn't wait for Joy?" Nova asked. "Wouldn't she also wanna see yer father?"

Bebe shrugged. "Naw. Joy and Papa have only been fightin' these days. He doesn't want her working in the inns – he wants her to heal like Mama did. But she doesn't wanna listen."

"And do _you _like your papa?"

"Aye." Bebe flashed a proud smile. "He teaches me how to read, to write, to-"

Nova froze. "You can read? And _write_?"

"Can't everyone?"

"I can't."

This time, it was Bebe's turn to frown. "_What_? Lass, why didn't you tell me? I can _teach _you."

They spent the rest of the morning sitting in the grass, the soft breeze ruffling their hair, the feathery scent of daisies surrounding them as Bebe drew into the soil. Gladiators passed by them, snorting as Nova repeated Bebe's every word – not a single one realising that the girl, herself, was a gladiator who had _oh, so conveniently _buried her gladiator belt in her little pack.

Finally, Nova, too, had started drawing in the mud. Drawing her first ever word.

_Bibi. _

"That's not how you spell my name," Bebe said with a sigh. "You've written _bye-bye_."

Nova scowled. "No. I've written Bebe."

"No. You're not supposed to use the _i_."

"But you said that the _i _sounds like _ee_, like Am_bi_pom!"

"Aye, but sometimes it's different. Sometimes, the _i _makes the _aye_ sound."

The gladiator threw her hands up in the air. "Well, that's stupid. Why wouldn't they bloody keep one sound for each letter thing?"

And though she looked almost hysterical with the dirt over her bare hands and the ferocity in her eyes, she drew on the ground again, her fingers trembling as she tried to remember which symbol sounded like what, as she tried to keep her lines straight, as she tried to make them all the same size-

_Beebee. _

"Now, I'm definitely right," Nova said. "Beebee. Com_bee_. Same sound."

Bebe shook her head. "It makes the right sound, but that's not how we spell it. Here, I'll show you."

The small girl bent down and left her own rough scrawls over the dirt, and at the sight of the symbols along the ground, Nova had to fight down the urge to send the mud and words flying with a kick of her boot.

_Bebe. _

"You said that the _e _makes the _eh_ sound!" she cried out.

"Aye, but it's sometimes makes a different sound-"

Nova stared down at the ground and frowned. "Well, fuck this."

"I'm telling Joy that you cursed in front of me!"

"You're a little shit."

"But you love me, don't you?"

With a roll of her eyes, Nova reached out and tousled the small girl's hair.

"Aye, I do."

* * *

They only spent a few seconds in Floaroma, where the grass beneath their feet was perfectly trimmed, where leaves littered the rooves and boughs hung over each home. There wasn't a single flower in sight; only grass and red houses with shingle roofs, wooden terraces, and gaping holes where there should have been doors.

"It's called Floaroma, but there ain't no _flowers_?" Nova said.

Bebe yanked at her hand. "I _wish _there were flowers here. I wish there were flowers _everywhere_. But the flowers are only in the Floaroma Gardens. Come _on_."

The gladiator knew what to expect as the small girl dragged her into the gardens. Bebe had already told her all about the riot of colours, the hot orange of the Beautifly weeds among the grass, the prairie of black-eyed susans that were like balls of sunshine themselves, the lazy river of blue-violet irises the wove through the gardens.

What she hadn't expected, though, was the screaming. Or the fire.

The flames tore through the flowers in the shape of a horrendously orange grin, devouring hungrily at each petal, licking and lapping at the coppice, twisting and swaying in a wicked dance. Children screamed and Pokémon cried out, and then Nova saw the blackened bodies in the flowers, the small bundles that were coughing and choking as smoke rolled over them-

"_No_," Bebe whispered. Her voice was strangled – _raw _– and Nova closed her eyes as the small girl held her and cried. "The _flowers_. Mama's favourite flowers…"

Nova wanted to hold the girl. She wanted to wipe her tears. She wanted to beg her to smile.

But there was no time for that.

"Bebe," Nova said sharply, "I want you to go to your father's home and make sure he's okay. Take your Glameow with you. Livia, I need you to fly back to Oreburgh and drag Joy here by the arse. Bailey, you fly around and try to pull people out of the fire. Keep Leila on your back. Tric and Rhys – go get me some water. _Go_."

And so, they split off. The Zubat – with a grumble – flew off to Oreburgh to find the healer, the Staravia and Budew flew over the fire, and the Monferno and the Luxio darted for the nearby streams, with Bebe sobbing and running behind them.

Nova, herself, was ready to throw herself in the flames when she heard a voice call out behind her.

"Injured, lads and lasses?" the girl called out. "Come here, give me your Pokémon, and The Galactic Healers will heal them for you!"

Nova took one glance at the girl and hissed.

It was one of the women with the Murkrow masks. Was she _actually _going to heal Pokémon? Or was she yet another thief?

She didn't get the chance to find out. For, within minutes, Rhys and Tric were back, a small blue Pokémon on the Luxio's back.

And how, readers, did that happen?

Well, surely, you've heard the tale about _The Shy Shellos That Tried To Be Brave But Pissed Herself Instead_?

No? Well, it goes something like this:

_There was once a small, blue Shellos from the Eastern side of Sinnoh. She did what every other slug in the region did – eat, sleep, piss, repeat. _

_Except, one day, a gladiator walked past her home with long, golden hair. And, with her, was a pink Shellos. _

_The Shy Shellos That Tried To Be Brave But Pissed Herself Instead was completely mesmerised by the duo. They were so powerful, defeating gladiator after gladiator before her very eyes, not stopping to rest until every gladiator was beaten to a pulp. _

_From that day, the blue Shellos decided that she wanted to become exactly like that pink Shellos. She wanted to become a gladiator's Pokémon. _

_But, alas, no gladiator wanted her. She was, after all, a slug. _

_So, she travelled far and wide, crawling along the mud, hurtling down the rivers, until she found herself surrounded by pink Shellos. And, similar to the Shellos at home, they did the usual things a slug would do – eat, sleep, piss, repeat. _

_Until, of course, a Luxio and Monferno came darting into their home. They glanced at all the Shellos, and – maybe it was fate, or maybe it was because she was a dot of blue amongst pink – they rushed up to her and bared their fangs. _

_The Monferno asked her to put out a fire with her water abilities. The Luxio threatened to rip her ears off if she didn't. _

_And so, the shy Shellos tried to be brave. _

_But when faced with the fire, what did she do? _

_She pissed herself instead. _

"Shellos, you're supposed to spit water _at _the fire, not- oh, bloody hell!"

Nova swore as she scooped the Shellos into her arms and aimed it at the fire, her face smudged black from the ash as the water-type _finally _spat water at the fire in large bursts. Somehow, Leila the Budew had managed to convince more Shellos to come along and join the fun, and Nova could hardly contain her relief as the roaring flames dwindled into mere embers.

But there were no more flowers when it was all through. There were just heaps of ash. Burnt bodies. Wailing Pokémon.

Bebe found Nova minutes later, her eyes rimmed red as she glanced at the Shellos in her hands, and then back at the gladiator.

"Papa…" she was choking out. "Our home… I couldn't go in."

Nova placed the Shellos onto the ground and reached out to hold the small girl. "What happened?"

"There are people blocking it. The people with the Murkrow masks. And, oh, Nova, it was _horrible. _They were saying something about making the fire there on _purpose_, and stealing the injured Pokémon, and-"

The girl cried in Nova's arms, and suddenly, the gladiator felt the pieces click.

_Come here, give me your Pokémon, and I will heal them for you! _

They had started the fire _to _injure Pokémon. So that they could steal them.

"I have a plan," Nova whispered into Bebe's ear. "But you have to be brave for me, okay?"

Bebe nodded.

"Come with me, then. My champions- by the blasted shadows, Rhys, stop looking at Shellos like that. You can't eat her. You're all coming with me, and that includes you, Owl."

"Owl?" Bebe repeated.

Nova smiled. "That's the name of my new Shellos."

They moved towards the woman with the crow mask, and with the sweetest smile Nova could force upon her face, she gestured at the Shellos in her hands.

"Oh, my _Shellos_," Nova cried out. "She was hurt in the fire, and _please_, lass, can you be a doll and check her for me?"

The woman nodded slowly. "Your Shellos doesn't look too bad. But I think I should be checking up on your Monferno and Luxio. And oh, yes, the Staravia, too-"

_Of course. Of course she wanted the evolved ones. _

"No, no," Nova insisted. "Though, while you're at it, could you check my hand? I think I hurt it."

"Lass, I don't have _time-_"

She never got to finish. For, in that second, Nova dropped the Shellos and ripped her sword from her belt.

The masked woman, though, was just a second quicker.

Steel rattled against steel, their blades levelled with their noses, their breaths like fire in their ears. Nova stalled the woman's strike, but watched with horror as the woman's eyes gleamed with wretched amusement, as Zubat and Wurmple crawled out from behind her wagon and started spitting string around her Pokémon-

"Stop them!" Nova cried out.

Her Pokémon didn't waste a second. Instantly, Luxio and Monferno were among the Wurmple, spitting fire and sparks. Shellos cowered behind Nova, and the Staravia flung himself towards the swarm of Zubat, Budew cheering on his back.

As for Nova and the masked woman?

One of them was simply too strong.

A blade flashed – singing a low, swift tune as one of the girls swiped at the other's stomach.

Whose blade was it, you ask, dear readers?

Well, I would tell you.

But that would be _spoiling_.

* * *

The physician guarding Driftloon Fella's house was straightening his black cloak when his partner arrived. Her cloak was splattered with blood, her mask was on a slight angle upon her face, and she looked completely, utterly _pissed _as she dragged a girl and six Pokémon behind her, all wrapped in Wurmple silk. The Monferno, Staravia and Luxio, he knew, would _certainly _catch Mars's attention. The Glameow, Budew, and Shellos? Pathetic.

"What's the girl for?" he asked.

His partner shrugged. "Same reason we were trying to steal the girl in Jubilife, no?"

"She's one of them three?"

"What do ya think?"

With a roll of his eyes, he let her through, wincing as she slammed the door shut behind her.

Only minutes later, though, he saw another woman – his _actual _partner – running up to him, a large gash running down her shoulder, bleeding onto her underthings, her mask and cloak _gone_-

"Oh, _shit_."

* * *

"Oh_, shit_," Nova said, ripping the Murkrow mask from her face. "How do they bloody _breathe _in these things?"

Bebe ignored her, instead kneeling down to rip away the Wurmple silk from the Pokémon. "What do we do now?"

Nova paused to glance around her. It was as if a knife was buried in her guts, twisting deeper and deeper as her gaze slid across the brick walls, the dust-tinctured tables-

The _cages. _

There were cages over cages along the walls with thick metal bars welding together each side. Each with its own scars from being clawed and chewed at. Each with blood congealed over every metal rod. Each with Pokémon trapped inside, screaming and crying-

"Leila and Bailey, you two start breaking open the cages. Tric and Owl, go help them. Rhys, you can come with me."

She, Bebe, Luxio, and Glameow darted past the cages, just as she heard physicians cry out behind her. They were sending out their Zubats and Wurmples, but with Bailey and Tric blocking the way with their fire and wind, they stood no chance.

Nova was so _sure _they had won. They just needed to get to the idiot in charge, make him leave Bebe's father, make him surrender to knights-

"Stop right there."

It turns out, the idiot in charge was a _girl. _A girl with sharp red hair sticking out from behind her mask, with eyes just as crimson glaring at Nova. Her sword was already drawn, but it wasn't angled at the gladiator.

It was angled at the man who was kneeling on the floor. Ready to cut his neck open.

"_Papa_!" Bebe cried out.

"Papa?" The woman gave her a crooked grin. "Theron never told me he had children."

The man – Theron – choked back his sob. "Please, Mars, don't do anything to my daughter."

"Oh, I won't. But only if the girl with the sword lowers the damned weapon."

Nova didn't need to be asked twice. She let her sword clatter to the ground.

"Good," Mars crooned. "Now, _attack_."

A growl ripped from behind her, and out came a Purugly, leaping forward, diving straight towards the gladiator-

With a sharp hiss, Rhys was there, charging at the cat, their angry snarls echoing like thunder along the walls.

Nova lunged for her sword, ready to rush to Mars, ready to strike her in the face-

And then, the world seemed to slow.

Because Mars had seen her coming. Mars had thrown her head back and snorted.

And she had slid her sword through the air and through Bebe's father's neck.

It wasn't a single, smooth slice. It took _hacks _– two, three, _four _hacks – and then there was a horrible, sicking thud as the head rolled onto the floor, as blood spat everywhere, as Bebe's scream ripped through their ears-

Nova couldn't move. She couldn't even breathe.

She just felt vomit rise in her throat, felt herself reach for Bebe, felt tears hot in her eyes-

_Oh, Arceus, no_-

"Your bloody Pokémon have already ruined everything," Mars snapped. "My cages are empty, and Theron turned out to be bloody useless anyways. Energy, my arse. It wasn't enough. A waste of time."

She strolled over to Nova, but a howl stopped her. She turned to her side, where her Purugly limped over to her, bleeding and hissing, Rhys trailing right behind it – teeth bloodied and ready for more.

"Let's go, Purugly," Mars said. "I don't think these fools will want to mess with The Galactic Healers again."

Then, with a sharp call, she and her fellow physicians piled out of the room. Out of the slaughterhouse.

* * *

Pokémon were returned to their owners. Knights came to inspect the slaughter, weeding out as much as they could out of Nova before she spewed onto their armour.

In the Floaroma inns, Nova's Pokémon were all quiet. One of the Pokémon that hadn't been claimed – a Pachirisu that she had named Dorian – was the only one who could make any sound. The rest just surrounded Nova and Bebe, burying their faces into their arms as the younger girl cried and the older one cradled her.

"I'm sorry, Bebe," Nova whispered again and again. "I'm so sorry."

Bebe sobbed again. Took a long, shuddering breath. "I should have known… Mama always said that burning flowers was a bad omen…"

There was a moment of sick, horrible silence. Even the Pachirisu had the sense to shut up.

"Joy will be here soon," Nova said. "Livia is bringing her. I can go outside and-"

"Don't go, Nova. Please stay. Please."

"I'm always with you, Bebe. Always."

She let the girl cry into her chest. She let her moan and shiver and sob, let her scream and howl.

And she remembered the head that had rolled beside her boots, the blood that had sprayed onto her face, the flash of triumph in Mars's eyes-

Then, the gladiator sighed.

They both needed a distraction.

"Bebe," she said. "Tell me about the flowers. You said they were special to your mama."

Bebe wiped at her eyes. "Aye. Papa asked Mama to marry him there, and when we were smaller, Joy played with me there, and… Mama used to sing me a song. About the flowers."

"Can you sing it for me?"

And so, despite her hiccuping and her sobs, Bebe sang. She sang about lavenders, and kings and queens, about the colour blue and hearts coming together, until her eyes fluttered weakly and closed.

Nova was grateful that the girl had sung herself to sleep.

There was something she desperately needed to do.

She kissed Bebe gently on the head and gestured for her Pokémon to follow her outside. They raced after her, edging past the burnt lumps of ash, wincing as the remaining scent of stale smoke assailed them.

Nova told them her plan as the moved. And, as soon as they reached the Floaroma Gardens, they set to work.

Tric dug the holes in the mud, and Leila created and planted the seeds, with Rhys covering them once again with the mud. Owl followed after them, spitting water into each little hole, and Bailey cleared away the ash and dust.

The plan had been to only plant the flowers in the Floaroma Gardens. But then, Bebe's words chimed in Nova's head, over and over again, singing to her heart.

_It's called Floaroma, but there ain't no flowers?_

_I wish there were flowers here. I wish there were flowers everywhere._

And so, they planted more seeds _everywhere_. Beside the houses, through the meadows, along the rivers. They covered _all_ of Floaroma with their work, ignoring the odd gazes that patrolling knights shot her, ignoring the few that tried to scold her for being out so late at night.

It would take weeks or months – or maybe even _centuries _– for all of the flowers to come to life.

But Nova just knew that it had all been worth it.

* * *

**This chapter featured **_**The Shellos That Tried To Be Brave But- **_**oh, gosh, that's so long.****These were the catches: **

**Owl the Shellos [Route 205] – named after Owl, from A Girl Called Owl by Amy Wilson. **

**Dorian the Pachirisu [Valley Windworks] – named after Dorian, from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. **

**Owl the Shellos, in the game I did the nuzlocke in, was, in fact, pink. But, for the story's sake, I made it blue because… symbolism and thematic stuff. Sorry about the lack of integrity! **


	15. Chapter XIV

**Chapter XIV**

Nova couldn't bear to be in Bebe's home any longer.

Even though all the windows were jammed shut, she could feel a breeze run along her skin, could feel icy fingers circling around her face even though nothing was there. The brick walls seemed more cracked – more hollow – and along the wooden planks, she could still see and smell and _taste _the dried blood.

The blood of Bebe's father. The blood that may never have been there, had she not tried to swipe at Mars.

And though Nova's every limb begged her to turn on her heel and walk out the door, she knew she couldn't. She owed it to both Bebe and Joy to help them sift through their father's old papers and manuscripts before his house was sold to some rich fellow.

After all, with Joy and Bebe – two _girls _– the only remaining heir to Theron's estate, they had no choice to give it away. _Girls _couldn't own estates. Not unless they were the bloody Queen of Sinnoh.

Joy tore through one of the drawers, crumpling paper after paper in her hands, not bothering to read what had been written. She had just arrived that same morning, Livia the Zubat and Lorcan the Machop trailing just behind her.

And though Nova had tried to explain everything that had happened, the healer hadn't said a word. Not until now.

"Let's just burn all of this," Joy said, tossing the paper onto the floor. "Easy."

Nova turned to face her, frowning. "What?"

"Father is gone. There's no use keeping his bloody paper around."

With a sigh, the gladiator reached out and touched the girl on the arm. "Joy, are you alright?"

"I'm bloody fine."

"Joy-"

"Please get your hands off me. I'm _fine_."

Before Nova could say anything, Bebe stumbled into the room, staring at Joy with hard, furious eyes.

"Do _not _burn it," she told her.

Joy scowled. "Why not?"

"Papa wanted to do stuff with this! He had ideas! He wanted to help the Drifloon do somethin' with the wind!"

"It was a stupid idea. It was never going to work."

"You don't know that! We can… we can… try to…" Bebe glanced desperately at Nova, who only shrugged.

"Sorry, lass," the gladiator said. "You know I can't read. And the pictures, well-"

Bebe took a sharp breath. "The pictures! Maybe we can make whatever Papa was trying to make with the pictures! If we shape it like one of those big flowers, then maybe it'll spin, and that's how it collects the wind!"

"Right." Nova turned to Lorcan the Machop, who was just behind her, glancing curiously at the paper. "Lorcan, stay with Bebe. Help her build whatever it is she needs. And if knights come along and try to take the estate, punch them in the balls."

Instantly, Bebe was in the gladiator's arms, hugging her, thanking her, leaving Nova feeling nothing but guilt as the smell of blood crept back into her nose.

At least it was making Bebe smile. At least-

"_Nova_," Joy hissed. "We need to talk. Outside. Now."

_Oh, bloody hell. _

The healer dragged Nova by the hand, and only once they were outside – once the golden light of the sun was dancing along their faces – did Joy turn and snarl.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Nova?" she demanded. "Bebe has to get _over _it. He's _dead_. He's gone."

"But his ideas don't have to be."

"Yes, they _do_. Because he is gone. _Gone_. Just like Mam-"

That was when the healer broke. That was when the tears came streaming down her cheeks. That was when she let Nova reach out and hold her.

"I'm sorry, Joy," Nova whispered. And she meant it. She _felt _each of her words ring in her heart as she added, "I wish I had stopped it."

Joy sniffed against her neck. "You protected Bebe. That's what matters."

They stood there for a long moment, listening to the squeal of the wind and the soft hiss of the river. Then, Joy pulled away, rubbing furiously at her eyes.

"I should go," she said. "There are still Pokémon that need healing after the fire. They need me."

Nova grabbed at her elbow. "No. You should stay with Bebe. _She _needs you."

"And you?"

"I'm done with this hell," the gladiator confessed. "I'm going to Eterna to change my name, and I'll be right back to help you and Bebe. Then, I'll go back to me mother."

Joy nodded slowly. "Bebe would like that."

"What about you?"

The healer never got the chance to answer. For, in that second, dozens and dozens of Drifloons drifted down towards the home – towards where Bebe was standing with Machop. And, in their little heart-shaped hands, there were pieces of wood, scraps of cloth, and some were even bloody managing to hold bits of _stone_.

"Exactly what Papa needed," Bebe breathed out. "Exactly what _I _need."

And though neither of them said it, Nova and Joy had the exact same thought in their head as they watched the girl set off to work.

_That little lass is going to change the world. _

* * *

With six Pokémon trailing behind her – Tric, Bailey, Livia, Leila, Rhys, and Owl – Nova followed the stream, moving beside it as if it were a silver road.

Once she was in Eterna, she would have a new name.

And she _still _hadn't decided on _what _that name would be.

Worse yet, she hadn't decided what she would do with all the Pokémon once she was done with it all. Or how she would avoid Lucas and Duke Rowan.

For now, though, she decided to take things one step at a time.

Even if those steps led her straight into a man with a crow mask – one of those damned Galactic Healers.

"Tell me what you know!" the man was demanding, his voice muffled behind his crow mask. "Tell me about those blasted legendries."

A girl answered, "_No_."

Which was very, very odd, for Nova could see no girl.

"Tell me, you little bitch!"

"And I said _no_. The Song Sisters have no obligation towards you and your Galactic Healers."

Again, that same, soft voice. Smooth. Velvet-like. And it was coming from-

Nova froze.

_It was coming from the tree? _

"Leave me _alone_," the tree hissed. "When the Song Sisters hear about this, it will not be pleasant for you."

With Leila chattering nervously in her ear, Nova took a step closer and stared at the tree.

It was, in fact, a girl. She still had long, green hair plaited down her back, her eyes were still bright against the daylight, and Nova could still see cheeks and a nose and lips.

But her skin was made entirely of bark. Her fingers were spread out into millions of different roots. There were _leaves _sticking out from her arms.

Nova snarled as the Galactic Healer reached for his dagger.

"Livia. Go bite his face off."

In an instant, the Zubat was off, shrieking as her teeth reached for the crow mask. Then, not to be outdone, Rhys was after him, too, with Leila rushing after them to _watch the fun_.

Yes, yes, dear reader. The small little Budew does have a taste for blood.

Nova didn't bother paying much attention to the Galactic Healer. She could already hear him screaming as Rhys growled, could hear a splash of water as the man fell into the river, but she didn't care.

All she could focus on was the girl. The tree girl.

She looked as if she could hardly stand. Her eyelids – made of twigs – kept closing and opening, and her eyes were glazed, and for a horrible second, Nova was _sure _the tree girl was going to fall-

Sure enough, the tree girl stumbled on her own bare, wooden feet. And, before she could stop herself, Nova was there, catching her, wincing as the bark scratched her skin.

"Apologies, lass," the tree girl was saying, her voice softer than the rustling of her leaves. "The further I get from Eterna Forest, the weaker I get…"

Nova stared at her and blinked. "You're a tree."

"Aye. Could you, perhaps, be a dear and walk me into the forest? I need help and my sisters are waiting for me-"

"You're a _tree_."

The tree girl rolled her eyes. "Cheryl. My name is Cheryl. I am one of the Song Sisters."

"You're a _talking_ tree named Cheryl."

"Aye," Cheryl said with a sigh. "And if you come with me, I can answer some of your questions, young November."

* * *

As they moved through Eterna Forest, Cheryl's movements became stronger and stronger. She no longer needed to lean on Nova's shoulder, and as they passed the pillars of trees and the twisting gnarled roots that were blanketed in dark green moss, it was as if the tree girl could finally breathe.

They didn't say much as they moved over the feathery ferns that were closing up for the sunset, over the mushrooms, over the shallow puddles of black water.

The only time Cheryl _did _speak was when a Wurmple had latched itself onto Nova's boot. She had laughed and named it Bishop, while the gladiator spent minutes convincing Bailey to not eat it.

Once they reached the mansion, though, Nova and her Pokémon forgot _all _about the Wurmple.

The mansion was made entirely of wood and leaf, with the floor a tapestry of coiling roots. Trees made up the walls – pine trees, all thick and old and twisted- and their higher branches moved in to create a roof of green, yellow and red leaves. A single, giant web of life.

All Nova could smell was pine and mud as Cheryl urged her into the mansion.

"Song Sisters," she called out. "I bring our guest. November."

Instantly, Nova found herself surrounded by more and more tree girls.

And they were ridiculously _human_.

Some of them tried petting Rhys (who was biting back the urge to purr because, though he was a large bloody gremlin, he _loved _the attention), some were squeezing Tric's cheeks and gushing over little Leila and Owl, some were laughing as Bailey made a fool out of himself by flying into the wall, and one was even trying to sneak _food _to Livia.

"We know you," one of the girls was saying. "How's Lorcan? What about Frazer?"

Another girl cut her off, asking, "And is your shadow still your own?"

"Is my _what_?" Nova asked.

Cheryl glared at her sisters. "Quiet, girls. And go fetch some tea and bread. November hasn't eaten well for a while."

Nova watched as all the tree girls – all eighteen of them – marched out.

How had they known about Lorcan and Frazer? How had they known Livia liked to eat? And _what _the hell had they asked about her shadow?

"The Song Sisters know many songs of Sinnoh," Cheryl said suddenly. "We hear them long before they ever come to be. Every time there is a new song, a leaf falls from our roof and sings the song for us. Sometimes, the songs tell us about something that will happen in a few minutes. Sometimes, the songs tell us something that will happen in hundreds of years."

"Oh." Nova smiled wryly. "Say, you couldn't tell me how me mother is, aye?"

"We only listen to the songs, dear November. We do not sing them."

For what felt like the fourth time – maybe higher, if Nova could count past that number – our dear little gladiator felt like an absolute muttonhead.

"I'm sorry, _what_?"

Cheryl took a long, slow breath. "We cannot share what the future holds with anyone."

"Wait," Nova said. "You know everythin' about what is going to happen, but you can't do anythin' about it? That's a bloody waste."

"We don't know _everything_," Cheryl corrected. "Sometimes, some futures change suddenly, and the songs change. The songs _always_ change. Sometimes, the leaves never know what someone is going to do because they act too quickly, and they write the wrong songs."

Nova glanced up at the leaves and frowned. "But if ye can't do anythin' about it, what's the point of knowing?"

"We can't sing the songs, November, but we can hum them."

This time, Nova understood. "You can't tell folks what's going ta happen, but you can still do things about it?"

"Only a bit," Cheryl confessed. "We can't leave Eterna Forest without losing our strength, and we don't know whether the leaves sing songs that already know of our choices. So, we keep it small."

"Small?"

Cheryl smiled softly. "Small things. Like giving a young lass some food if we know she is going to change the kingdom."

"Oh, aye," Nova said with a snort. "Ain't _that _funny. So, what, are ye all born like trees?"

"No. Most of us didn't choose. Only women who die in Eterna Forest can become Song Sisters if me and my sisters cast a spell upon them."

"And then you become trees."

"Aye."

Nova rubbed at her temples. "And that's it? Hear them songs, learn them songs, live in the forest, but you don't get to do anything for _fun_?"

This time, Cheryl's bark-face stretched into a grin.

"Well, there is _something_…"

* * *

There were many things Nova did not know about a tree. She didn't know that they gave her air to breathe, she didn't know that their leaves fell off in winter, and she _definitely _didn't know that trees knew how to bloody _fight_.

Nova felt her jaw drop as she watched Cheryl spar with another song sister, their swords moving like quicksilver in the night. The two girls seemed perfectly matched, their swords twisting with such ease and grace that the gladiator was _sure _they could have sliced the moonlight itself. Chery's opponent flinched back, her blade shivering as metal slammed into metal. With one fluid step, Cheryl swivelled, her eyes flashing green as she thrust her swords forwards-

Her opponent called out in surrender. Cheryl grinned.

"By the blasted shadows," Nova said. "You guys are better than all them gladiators that I've seen!"

There was a snort from behind her. "Only because they're in the forest."

Nova turned around and swore. The voice had come from some floating _thing _– all orange and shaped like a rod of lightning. It was Pokémon – there was no mistaking that.

But a _talking _Pokémon?

"Rotom," Cheryl was saying, "I've told you about manners, have I not? Introduce yourself first like a good lad."

Rotom buzzed around, zipping back and forth, whirling around Nova. "Good evenin'!" he chirped. "It's an honour to meet you, daughter of Vernia and son of-"

"_Rotom_."

The Pokémon frowned at Cheryl. "She doesn't know yet? Oh, apologies, lass."

"Wait," Nova quickly said. "You know who me father is?"

"Aye, we know who yer mother tumbled with."

"Who is it?"

Rotom's blue eyes danced. "You wanna know? Ya sure?"

"_Rotom_," Cheryl hissed again, raising her hand in warning.

"Oh, come on Cheryl, can I at least give a hint? Give her a vowel to work with? First letter?"

Nova's brow shot up. "What's a vowel?"

"She can't read or write, Rotom," Cheryl pointed out.

This time, it was Rotom's turn to look bewildered. "What? But the songs said that she learnt most of it all the way here-"

"There was a change in the songs. Theron died. The songs didn't know that would be happening until it happened."

Nova felt a stab in her own chest as she watched Rotom deflate, as she saw Cheryl nod sadly.

"Song changes are the _worst_," Rotom muttered. Then, in a second, his eyes lit up again, and he grinned at Nova. "Say, November, are ye _really _gonna change yer name to-"

"_Rotom_!"

"Oh, Cheryl, do ya have to be such a snot? I just think it'll be funny when she hears that her name-"

Before he could finish, a sword – Cheryl's sword – whistled in the air and soared just inches over his head. So close to impaling him right on the head.

"Fine, fine," Rotom said. "Next time, just ask nicely. No need to throw bloody swords at me. See yer, November! Try not to d-"

Cheryl cut him off by ripping a dagger from her skirt belt and throwing it at him. Before it could land in its mark – right in his eye - the Rotom was gone, leaving Cheryl and Nova, whose head was throbbing from it all.

The songs hadn't seen Theron's death coming, but they _had _known about her name change? Even though she hadn't even _decided _on one yet? And try not to _what_? _Die_?

"I apologise for Rotom," Cheryl said. "He has been here longer than the Song Sisters. We can't do anything about him."

Nova waved away the apology. "Was he telling me not to die?"

"I can't sing, November. I can only hum."

_Right. Because that made so much sense. _

"Anyways," Nova finally said, "I was saying it before, but you fight better than the bloody _knights_. Hell, you _could _be knights."

"I suppose we could. But, then again, we're trees. Once we leave Eterna Forest, we lose our strength."

"Oh."

Cheryl smiled sadly. "I've always wanted to fight, though. I used to be a gladiator, you know, and it was my _dream _to be a legionary. Or a knight. But, alas, when I was fighting another gladiator, I died here. And so, the Song Sisters took me in."

"I'm sorry."

"T'was nothing," Cheryl said with a shrug. "Now, please move away from the door."

"Why?"

Nova got her answer in seconds. As she took one step to her left, the door burst open behind her. In came a girl – a _normal_ girl, with short brown hair, a long green cloak, and skin that actually looked like skin. Though, she may as well _have _been a tree girl herself – she had rosemary curling over her head, bits of thyme and mint leaves stuck out from her tunic, and she even had bits of _chives _poking out of her boots.

"Legionary Gardenia," Cheryl said, lowering her head to bow.

Nova stared at the legionary – looking over her thin arms, her brown eyes, the sickle she dragged behind her.

So _this _was who Barry would be fighting next.

"No time for formalities," Gardenia was telling Cheryl. "I need your help. One of your sisters is in my way."

Cheryl frowned. "What do you mean?"

"One of your sisters is blocking my arena. I can't do any of the gladiator battles now because she won't let me through."

"That can't be," Cheryl said. "All my sisters are here, Gardenia."

Gardenia threw her hands up in the air. "Well, bloody hell, there is a tree with eyes outside my arena and I need her _gone_."

"But- _oh._" Cheryl froze suddenly. Then, she swore. "I can't step out of the forest without losing the strength I'd need. I can't help you, Gardenia. Perhaps November can, instead?"

"November?"

For the first time since she had entered, Gardenia turned away from Cheryl and glanced at the wild-eyed gladiator.

"Nova," the gladiator corrected. "Just call me Nova."

"November is a gladiator," Cheryl explained. "If she wishes to do so, she may choose to help you."

It wasn't a song – it was only a hum. A mere suggestion. A thought.

But, for some strange reason, Nova couldn't quite say no.

* * *

**For those who didn't think I was serious about the full-on catching spree, you've probably worked out that I was entirely serious. We meet: **

**Bishop the Wurmple [Eterna Forest] – named after Frank Bishop, from Badge of Evil by Craig Horowitz and Bill Stanton. **


	16. Chapter XV

**Chapter XV**

"November, was it?"

"Nova."

Gardenia nodded. "I appreciate the help, Nova. I didn't want to burn one of the Song Sisters – turncoat or not. And even if I _did _want to, I didn't have a fire-type to do it."

They ran through the wheat – through the soft golden ears that moved in the wind – with Nova's Pokémon and Gardenia's Cherrim right behind them. Though the smell of manure hung thickly over every tree and patch of mud – over all the swelling buds and all the Ponyta – neither Nova nor Gardenia grimaced. They just kept running along the hills, past the small metal shacks that huddled like aphids to the mountain skirts, all grey-bitten and beaten by the hot wind.

"A turncoat Song Sister?" Nova repeated.

Gardenia smiled grimly. "A traitor. One who sang a song for someone else, and is no longer one of the Song Sisters."

"Are they still a tree?"

"Aye, but it's easier for them. They can leave Eterna. They can sing all the secrets to anyone. But once they return to the forest, they become a proper tree – no longer part human at all."

As they moved past the wheels of straw, Nova arched her brow.

"So," she said, "if they are a traitor and they try to come back to the forest, they turn into real trees. Which means they can't learn any of the new songs…?"

"Aye. And when she _does _sing one of the old songs that she knew before turncoating, she will lose parts of her body. Her fingers, her toes – even her damned stomach, starts to fall off. Until she's nothing but a pile of twigs on the ground."

Nova let out a low whistle. "I hope she can keep the songs to herself, then."

"I bloody hope she _can't_. At least, if she's nothing but a pile of twigs on the ground, she won't be in my bloody way."

"You're a cruel one, Legionary."

"It's a cruel world," Gardenia answered with a snort. "Besides, what would _you _do for someone in your way?"

Finally, they could see the arena – the large circular ring made of bricks, the walls that were so rustic brown, grey, and green, that it matched the rolling fields of potatoes and turnips. Behind her, Nova heard Livia whimper at the sight of all the delicious food, and heard Rhys snap at her.

"If someone was in my way," Nova said, "I would ask them to piss off."

Gardenia choked back a laugh. "And if that doesn't work?"

"Curse their mothers."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"It _always _works."

This time, the legionary _couldn't _bite back her chuckle.

"You know," Gardenia said, "I'm starting to like you, lass. I hope you're ready to curse some mothers."

* * *

As it turned out, Nova didn't _need _to curse any mothers.

For, where there lay a gaping hole in the bricks, there was no Song Sister. The door was completely, utterly open for everyone.

"She had been _right here_," Gardenia insisted, gaping.

Nova exchanged a glance with Tric. "Well, she's obviously not bloody here now. You can have yer gladiator battles again."

Someone cleared their throat behind the pair of girls, and they turned to face a man – some farmer with sweat dripping from his brow, right down to his britches.

"Legionary Gardenia?" he called out. "Are you going in?"

Gardenia frowned. "Aye. Why?"

"There are some healers in there. Galactic Healers, they call themselves. They're looking after me dear Cleffa, who hurt herself near a Ponyta. Could ye make sure she's okay? It's a special Cleffa – Sir Riley gave her to me for growing the biggest potato-"

_Galactic Healers… _

For a second, she just saw blood. Saw Bebe and Joy, sobbing. Saw Rhys tumbling on the ground, a Purugly's claws so close to his throat.

Nova cut off the man by whirling to face the legionary.

"Oh, _shit_, Gardenia," she hissed. "Galactic Healers aren't actual healers. They're thieves and _murderers._"

Then, they both rushed into the arena, cursing _everyone's _mothers.

* * *

The first thing Nova saw upon walking in was a bunch of those filthy physicians – all clad in the same black cloak, the same Murkrow mask, the same dark gloves and long boots. Not a single bit of skin showing, not a single bit of mercy in their eyes.

In the centre of it all was a woman with purple hair tied tightly behind her, her eyes the same dark shade of lavender. She was clinging onto a chain – a chain that was spitting red sparks out of it – and the other side of it was curled around a small Cleffa, and the poor Pokémon was whimpering and crying out and falling to its knees in agony-

The purple-haired girl didn't glance up as Gardenia and Nova strolled in. She just smiled.

"It looks like Mars _did _get something out of Theron," she was saying. "I told them it would bloody work. They should know by now that I'm _always _right."

Gardenia was already ripping the sickle from her belt as she said, "You need to leave that Cleffa alone."

"Ah, _finally_." The woman snickered behind her mask. "I was waiting for the legionary to hurry up and arrive. I didn't know she would be bringing a wretched beggar with her, though."

"I'm not a wretched beg-"

"Leave it, November," Gardenia said. She kept her steely gaze fixed on the three physicians, adding, "What are you doing to the Cleffa?"

The woman snorted. "Taking her energy, of course."

"Why?"

"Practice. We need to make sure it works."

"Works on _what_?"

Feeling for her purple hair, the physician rolled her eyes. "Why should I tell you?"

"I am Legionary Gardenia. Queen Cynthia has made Eterna my responsibility. I deserve to know everything that happens here."

"Well," the woman finally said. "Truth be told, Legionary, I don't give a shit about this Cleffa. It's weak. It doesn't have the energy we need for the spell. But I need to practice on _something _to make sure Mars's red chain actually _does _absorb energy."

"Red chain?"

The physician sighed dramatically. "I know. Shitty name. I wanted to call it purple chain, but _no_, Mars _always_ gets her way. Old bag of shit, she is."

Nova recognised the name of Theron's killer immediately. She remembered the blood red hair – the blood red sword and the blood red eyes.

And it made her hand unconsciously inch towards the sword in her belt.

She wished she hadn't left most of her Pokémon to guard the door outside – she wished she hadn't just brought Rhys and Owl with her.

"A spell?" Gardenia was asking. "What spell?"

"_Jupiter_," one of the physicians hissed at the purple-haired woman.

Jupiter's eyes crinkled at the side – whether it was from a grin or a frown, Nova couldn't tell.

"I've said too much, haven't I?" Jupiter asked, her voice thick with amusement. "That's okay. I didn't know about the beggar here, but the rest should remain the same. It's a shame, really. Such beautiful faces."

Then, she turned to the two physicians behind her and grasped onto her own sword.

"Kill them both," she barked.

As the physicians moved towards them, Gardenia turned to Nova.

"I'll take the purple girl," the legionary said. "You take the other two."

Nova didn't move. But Rhys did.

He hurled his body towards a Zubat, and they tumbled onto the ground, and there was this sickening sound that seemed awfully like bone _snapping_-

They hit the brick wall with a crack that Nova felt in her heart.

As Gardenia and Jupiter fought, the cracking of their weapons echoing through the arena, Nova turned towards the two physicians that were inching towards her. She saw a Skunktank lash at Owl, saw the Shellos spit mud right back at it even though it was _shaking- _

Nova's head bleated with pain, and yet, she careened into one of the physicians, fighting to stay upright with each heartbeat. Her sword slashed at one of the, and there was blood – oh, by _Arceus, _so much _blood_ – and the man was on the ground, a long slice down his chest.

The other physician was already upon Nova, arms snatching around her neck and middle. Pinning her. Hauling her against the wall.

But Nova had her eyes on the physician she had hurt. She watched as he crawled along the mud – crawled even though blood trailed behind him.

Then, his arms faltered. His legs failed him. And blood slipped from his mouth as he collapsed and stilled and _stopped breathing_-

She killed him. She had killed him.

For a second, she just stared and stared and stared. Felt bile in her throat. Tears in her eyes.

She had killed a _person_. And it wasn't even the same person who had killed _Theron_-

Owl cried out in pain, and suddenly, that's all Nova could hear and see. Her Pokémon. In danger. Needing her.

And even with an arm shoved against her throat, Nova snarled, "Leave my Pokémon _alone_."

From the corner of her eye, she could see both Rhys and Owl were clawing at the Skunktank – blood on the former's teeth, and mud on the latter's. They were working together – so much like a dance. Owl was there, spitting mud and water at the Skunktank, making it slip, making it turn its head blindly as dirt swarmed its eyes; then, Rhys was there, ripping at its back, seizing its moment of confusion to sting it with electricity-

The Skunktank landed a swipe on Rhys, and he howled in pain.

Nova didn't waste another second. She stomped down on the physician's foot.

He lurched, and she slammed her palm into his elbow, freeing herself from the arm across her through. Then, she whirled and drove her own elbow into the man's face, her arms rippling with pain as he dropped to the ground and swore.

And she aimed her blade high – ready to plunge it into the man's neck. She'd do it. She'd do it again and she'd _mean _it, and-

The Skunktank's roar filled the air, and she saw it stumble away in fear. Rhys was grinning at it, Owl sitting on his back, scaring it back, even making it trip over the chained Cleffa.

But that's not where Nova's gaze stopped.

_Oh, Arceus. _

Gardenia was stumbling, her breaths shuddered, her sickle no longer in her hand but on the mud – far out of reach. And Jupiter was stabbing at her – blow after blow after blow – the legionary barely managing to dodge each one, her Cherrim fighting off a Kadabra, sobbing as her vines went flying, sobbing because-

_Because- _

It happened so fast. Too fast.

Jupiter lunged for Gardenia's face, her throat, her heart.

And then, Jupiter's sword was through the legionary's heart – the steel going through one side, and poking out of the other.

Nova's scream shattered through the air. She kicked the physician aside and darted towards the legionary, falling to her knees, bloody on her hands and face and body-

"_No,_" she whimpered. "Gardenia…"

Even the legionary's blinking was faint as she murmured, "My hands… Wet… Is it raining? I _love _the rain…"

Nova choked back a sob.

The legionary thought her blood was _rain_.

"Knights are coming, Jupiter," one of the physicians – the one Nova had spared – was muttering. "We must run."

Jupiter frowned. "But they know too much. And you know we need the body-"

"The legionary is dead," the physician insisted. "The body will be in the Lost Tower soon enough. We can dig it up then."

Nova could hardly take it all in.

How could she worry about why they were digging up dead bodies when all she could see was Gardenia's bloody hands? How could she wonder why Jupiter wasn't mourning her own dead physician when all she could hear were Gardenia's final breaths?

Even her Pokémon had stopped attacking. Rhys, Owl, and the Cherrim were all beside her, whining at the sight of the legionary.

"Let's go, then," Jupiter finally said. She pulled out a Pokéball from her belt, and out came the nets. Then, the Skunktank was inside the Pokéball, the chain was ripped away from the Cleffa, and the Galactic Healers were gone – stepping over their dead companion on their way out.

Nova didn't know what to do. She didn't even know what to _say. _

Had it been her fault again? Had she let Gardenia die, just as she had with Theron?

And could she save her somehow? Was it too late?

Nova glanced at the Cleffa, who was hobbling over to her, still quivering like a leaf.

And she decided that, _no_, it was not too late.

She hadn't saved Theron. But she sure as hell would save Gardenia.

So, after swallowing down her vomit, Nova scooped the legionary in her arms.

And off they went.

* * *

Cheryl and the Song Sisters were already waiting for her outside their home. As if they had known all along what would happen. One of them kissed Nova gently on the head as Cheryl pulled Gardenia into her arms – as they all heard the legionary take her final, final breath.

Then, Chanseys appeared. Dozens of them. _More_. Light pulsing out of their hands. Eyes set and focused on their next masterpiece.

They followed behind Cheryl as she moved into the wooden house. Then, one by one, the Song Sisters followed, humming some soft tune, humming so beautifully that the forest seemed to stop and listen.

Nova hadn't been allowed to follow. She just stood there, letting her Pokémon snuggle up to her, her heart in her throat as she whispered a final plea to the Song Sisters.

"Please. Save her."

* * *

**Not much to say here, is there? I changed the order of events - the Galactic HQ usually comes after the gym. But, eh, I'm having too much fun messing with the plot so... Hope you enjoyed! **


	17. Chapter XVI

**Chapter XVI**

It had been hours since Nova had carried Gardenia to Eterna Forest to watch her take her final breath; hours since knights had pressed her against a wall and demanded that she tell them what had happened. Luckily, Cheryl had come out just in time to tell the knights that no, she had not killed Gardenia. That she had killed the Galactic Healer to try saving Gardenia.

It wasn't _exactly _the truth. That was for sure.

Nova almost wished Cheryl had told the knights that she had killed the healer out of bloodlust. Maybe if they tried to arrest her, she would be running for her life – and maybe then, she wouldn't have to remember the blood and the gurgling and the death that she had seen. That she had caused.

The Song Sisters were still working on Gardenia. Cheryl had suggested for Nova to stroll through the field of flowers – past the dianthus and pansies and sunflowers – and take a look at the statue of Dialga.

It was made completely of stone, with legs as thick as tree trunks and its teeth like a row of daggers. And though it was a mere statue, the more Nova stared at it, the more she could _imagine _it coming to life – imaging its beady eyes searching through the crowd, its metallic spikes shining in the sunset, thrashing its tail, its ear-splitting roar like thunder-

Nova shook away the thought.

It was a statue. Nothing more.

Though, no one else seemed to believe that. All around the statue, there were children and adults alike, bowing down beside Dialga. Offering it gold as they made their prayers. Some crying, some smiling, some even smirking as they dumped bags of gold onto the statue. Even _knights _were there, slapping away hands that tried to steal the gold, directing and redirecting the crowd so that Dialga's statue had space to breathe.

Bailey chirped in Nova's ear. He was the only one who didn't want to rest in the inn, and had _insisted _on being a nuisance by trying to clean her ear with his beak.

Though – and surely, you already know this, readers and writers – Bailey was only being a nuisance to make Nova smile. And because her ears really _did _need cleaning.

"Ah, pretty, pretty," a voice croaked behind Nova and her Staravia.

Nova arched her brow as she turned to face the old crone, who was still donned in a cloak that shadowed her face and fell over her arched back. This time, though, the old crone was carrying a large bag with her – one that clanked and rattled as she stepped closer to the gladiator.

"You again," Nova muttered. "Are you following me?"

"You're a funny one," she replied. "Hundreds come to visit Dialga every day, and you think I'm here to see _you_?"

"You've followed me from Sandgem."

The cloaked lady waved her gloved hand. "That's besides the point. What have you come to ask Dialga for, lass? What do you want blessings for?"

Truth be told, Nova wasn't entirely sure. It had been Cheryl's suggestion – nudge, hum, whatever.

But still, the longer Nova stared at the statue, the more she pushed down the thought of the dead healer. Of Gardenia and Theron.

She had her mother to go back to. She had a name to change.

"I'm about to change my name," she confessed.

"To what?"

Nova shrugged. "I dunno."

"Maybe if you ask Dialga for your blessing, he'll give you some ideas."

"That's stupid," Nova pointed out, frowning. "What can a bloody statue tell me about myself?"

"A lot, if you only stop to listen."

Nova and Bailey exchanged an exasperated glance.

What was _with _all these cryptic answers from all these damned cryptic people?

Nova glanced down at the crone's clanking bag – no doubt stuffed with some sort of gold. It was big enough to fit an entire _body_ – how the old crone could carry it was beyond her.

"I don't have any gold to give Dialga, anyways," Nova finally said. "I have nothing to give."

The crone laughed – a harsh, grating sound. "When you have nothing to give, what do you give?"

"Er, yerself?"

"Exactly, lass. _Yourself_."

This time, Nova couldn't help but smile. "Maybe I should name myself after you. Cranky Old Stink, or somethin'."

"_Old_? Lass, by the shitting shadows, who are you calling _old_?"

"Oh, aye, so the stinking and cranky part is true?"

Before they could continue their bickering, a knight moved towards them, shaking his head.

"Ladies," he was saying, glancing between them, "I need you to make haste and do your blessings. You're blocking the way for others."

"You can't tell people to _make haste _with their blessings," the old crone protested, but Nova cut her off.

With a nod towards the cloaked lady, the gladiator made her way towards the statue, only stopping when the knight grabbed at her elbow.

"Wait," he said, "I need your name first."

Nova narrowed her eyes at the way he said it, at the way he glanced down at her gladiator belt. "November."

"The Twinleaf one, aye?"

"Aye."

The knight hooted. "I _knew _it. We've been given clear instructions. You and your friend are not allowed to make a blessing, _crip_."

The word stabbed at Nova's heart.

Oh, this bloody _runt_.

"And knights aren't supposed to be pieces of shit," she shot back.

He grabbed her by the collar and snarled. "Show me some respect, lass. I'm a _knight_."

The words were enough to send her head reeling back to when she was thirteen, back to her birthday, back to when those knights had touched and felt for her clothes-

_Always forget. _

In that second, she was ready to punch him. She was ready to kill him. She was ready to bark a single order at Bailey and get his face ripped off.

But the old crone beat her to it.

The woman's fist slammed into the man's jaw – hard enough to send him stumbling back as he released Nova's shirt. Even as other knights yelled out, swords drawn, the crone stood her ground and scowled.

"Go, November!" she called out. "Make your blessing! I'll handle these fools."

Nova had many, many questions in that second.

The first being: how the hell could the old crone straighten her back like that _and _punch like that?

Instead, though, Nova shoved aside the questions and ducked through the crowd, weaving through the children and the women and men, Bailey already leaping off her shoulder and rushing to swoop a knight that was dangerously close.

By the time she reached the statue, all she could hear was screaming. Screaming as Bailey kept pecking into people – knights and innocent children alike. Screaming as the old crone slapped each and every knight that tried to convince her to step away from the crowd. Screaming as she pulled out her own sword from her belt and stared up at Dialga.

_When you have nothing to give, what do you give?_

_Yourself. _

Nova hardly felt the pain spiral up her arm as she sliced the palm of her hand. She hardly heard the gasps around her as her blood dripped onto the statue – right onto the engraving of Dialga's name.

And, for the first time – and certainly not for the last – she _saw_.

She saw herself when she was a baby. Stumbling through the sand. Laughing as her mother clapped.

She saw herself from only days ago, planting seeds in Floaroma, smiling as Tric licked away her tears.

She saw herself now, standing there at the statue, slicing her palm open.

And she saw herself doing so many other things – things she had never seen in her life before. Dancing with a masked man. Slamming down a bowl of potato stew. Biting at handcuffs around her wrist. Crying as Lucas held her. Laughing as her mother brushed a strand of her hair. Frowning as Barry tied a scarf around her neck. Grinning as she raised a sword and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed-

All these scenes before her eyes – some she recognised, some she didn't. Some that sang to her heart, some that made her fingers turn numb.

Then, they were gone. Leaving her alone with the statue and a bloody hand.

_By the shitting shadows, what was that? _

Nova glanced up. Bailey was back on her shoulder, proudly shaking his feathers. The other villagers were still doing their own prayers, dropping coins down by the statue. And the knights were glancing down at their feet – embarrassed – not daring to meet her in the eye.

"The lady who was with you left the bag for you," one of them muttered. His helm was off, and he was rubbing at his bruised face – no doubt, bruises caused by the crone herself.

Nova moved over to the bag and ripped it open. Then, she felt her heart stop.

Armour. Armour that was far better than the armour she had given to the crone. Armour that was made of thick steel, with blue swirls engraving the shoulders, with boots that were actually light.

And, as she stared and stared at the armour, her head and hand still sore from everything that had happened, two voices watched over her. Two voices that she couldn't hear. Two voices that she couldn't see.

Or, at least, two voices that she couldn't hear or see _yet. _

"…_this one? really?..." _

"…_AYE…" _

"…_she stinks…" _

"…_YOU NEED NOT BATHE WITH HER…" _

"…_you make it sound as if she does bathe…" _

"…_JUST LOOK OUT FOR HER. PLEASE…" _

"…_i believe that is called stalking, dear friend…"_

"…_THEN STALK…" _

"…_and when shall i reveal myself?..." _

"…_WHEN SHE WANTS YOU TO…"_

"…_that's funny…" _

"…_HOW?..." _

"…_you know that no one ever wants me…"_

For you see, masters and squires, readers and writers, friends and foes – old crones aren't the _only _ones who are allowed to be cryptic.

* * *

The room of the name changer felt like a place out of time.

Nova felt as if she was moving through cold air as she pushed the door open, as she breathed in the smoke from the candles. Even though the sunset was burning orange outside, the curtains were sealed shut, letting darkness fall in folds over the wooden chairs, the settees, and the person sitting at the table.

Not just any person, no.

It was the blasted old crone.

Nova dropped the armour she had been carrying onto the floor and frowned.

"You? Again?" she asked. "_You're _the name changer? I thought you were a bloody merchant in Jubilife. And what's with the armour you left for me?"

The old crone only snorted. "A gift. And, I'm not the name changer. The real name changer got pissed in the tavern today, so he won't be doing any name changing. I'm doing it for him. Take a seat."

That _screamed _suspicion to Nova. But still, remembering the way the crone had fought of knights for her, the gladiator and her Staravia moved over to the chair. With the thin candlelight burning near her face, she glanced down at the paper, the brush, and the pot of ink.

"Over here, you write your name," the crone was saying, her gloved hands moving over the lines on the paper. "Then, underneath, you write your new name."

Nova nodded. "And the line underneath that?"

"That's where you ask Queen Cynthia to sign."

"_What_?"

Though she couldn't have been sure, Nova could have _sworn _that the lady grinned as she said, "Aye. Didn't you know? Queen Cynthia has to sign it if you want to change it officially."

"How in the blasted shadows am I supposed to get to Queen Cynthia?"

"Beat all the legionaries. Reach the castle. Easy – you're already a gladiator. If you're lucky, you'll run into her-"

Nova scoffed at that. "Hardly. Sir Lucas was telling someone that Queen Cynthia has disappeared. He's been looking all over for her, and even he ain't found her."

"Well, tell your Sir Lucas to eat shit," the lady answered. Then, with a laugh, she added, "November, there are only two reasons he can't find her. One, she doesn't want to be found. Two, he doesn't really _want_ to find her."

"And why wouldn't he want that?"

The old crone laughed as if that had been the funniest bloody question in the world.

* * *

It took three more nights for the Song Sisters to call the villagers of Eterna into Eterna Forest. By then, many gladiators who had heard of the news had come running, ready to hear the fate of Legionary Gardenia.

Amongst them were Barry, Joy, and Bebe.

Bebe, to Nova's surprise, was back to her old self – grinning and rambling and bickering away. As soon as their eyes locked, they were hugging and laughing and crying, with Nova telling her all about the crazy old crone, and with Bebe telling her all about Lorcan the Machop's work on the flower-wind-collectors.

Even then, Nova couldn't quite take her eyes off Joy and Barry. Her gladiator friend was clutching onto Joy's elbow as she guided him through the trees and thickets, a smirk on his face. His Piplup was on his shoulder, frowning, rolling her eyes, because both the Pokémon and Nova _knew _that Barry didn't really need Joy to guide him – not with Piplup's helpful chirping.

"Joy's hands are so _soft_," Barry whispered to Nova when she hugged him and asked him about it. "And she smells so _nice_."

Nova laughed into his ear. "You're a sop. Five minutes outside Twinleaf and you're already dallying with sweet, unsuspecting lasses."

"That's rich coming from _you_."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Before he could answer, it was Joy's turn to hug Nova. And though the healer didn't _say _anything, she took one glance at Nova – at the tunic that was still stained with blood, at the swollen red eyes, at the six Pokémon that ringed around her protectively, and squeezed her tighter.

That was when the Song Sisters stepped out of their wooden house, with Cheryl and Gardenia leading the way. All the gladiators – except Barry, who was still arguing with Bebe over whether black flowers existed or not – went silent at the sight of the legionary.

She was no longer made of skin and bone. Instead, her skin was made of tree bark, with little twigs sticking out from her limbs.

"Thank you to all gladiators and villagers who have gathered here today," Cheryl said, her voice soft and yet, loud enough to blanket over the trees of Eterna Forest. "As many of you may have heard, Gardenia did die in Eterna Forest. She took her final breath here, and the Song Sisters have decided to claim her as one of our own."

Gardenia nodded slowly – more robotically, more hesitantly. As if she couldn't believe it herself.

"This also means," Cheryl continued, "Gardenia will no longer be holding any more gladiator battles."

"What?" someone called out. "Will someone replace the legionary?"

Cheryl shook her head. "Nay, we can't. We need Queen Cynthia to choose someone and she is…"

_Gone. Pissing herself in a tavern somewhere. Maybe even dead. _

Nova wanted to scream out the words. All her dreams of changing her damned name had been crushed by the queen – by the queen who had abandoned her entire freaking kingdom.

"Queen Cynthia is currently unavailable," Gardenia finished. "And this means that gladiators who had not beaten me yet can no longer continue. Your journey ends here. You can still defeat the other legionaries, if you wish, but without the eight crystals, you will not have permission to go into the castle, nor can you free your name."

Had Nova not been so pissed about her name, she might have rejoiced. It was the easy way out – tell Rowan that Gardenia had died before she could challenge her, give up the stupid idea of being a gladiator, go home.

But, beside her, Barry deflated.

And Nova remembered that she wasn't the only one with a dream.

"Wait," Nova suddenly called out. "So, just because Queen bloody Cynthia is pissing herself in some tavern, the gladiators who have dreamt about this all their lives have to give up everything?"

There was a wicked silence cloaking the forest as all heads turned to Nova. They looked at the six Pokémon around her – most of which were cowering back from all the attention (except Rhys, of course) – and frowned.

Nova stepped up on her Luxio's back – even though he bared his teeth at her – and eyed each and every gladiator carefully.

All her careful planning of avoiding attention had long turned to ashes after she had faced Frazer the Onix. And even now, when she should have been veiling herself from the attention, she couldn't help herself.

She would do it. For Barry.

"Well," she said, "I say, fuck Queen Cynthia!"

"Nova!" Joy hissed.

But Bebe was already clapping her hands, calling out, "Yeah, fuck Queen Cynthia!"

"Bebe!"

Nova ignored them and turned to Cheryl, hoping desperately that the other gladiators didn't see her legs shake from the balancing.

"Gardenia may be a Song Sister, but she can still be a legionary," she pointed out. "Just because she's a Song Sister, doesn't mean she can't fight. Besides, have any of ye _seen _the Song Sisters fight? They're bloody better than the rest of us shitheads."

Gardenia smiled sadly. "I'm weaker, Nova. I'm still getting used to the new body."

"So? We'll fight you _and _Cheryl. We'll fight the whole bloody lot of you."

"But we are weak outside Eterna Forest," Cheryl pointed out.

"Then we fight in here, aye?"

There was a snort from one of the gladiators.

"That's a bloody death sentence," he said. "All the Song Sisters in Eterna Forest? Bloody hell, no."

To Nova's absolute despair, the gladiators started to head off, mumbling beneath their breaths, cursing her _and _the Song Sisters, the hope in their eyes dimmed.

Worse yet, she could _see _her best friend fighting back his own tears.

And, before she could stop herself, Nova was turning to the Song Sisters.

"I'll do it," she said. "If no one else will do it, _I'll _do it. To prove that it's possible."

Barry tried to open his mouth, tried to protest, but she only squeezed his hand.

"Because _fuck Queen Cynthia_," she told him.

Bebe had somehow forced herself out of Joy's grip, chirping, "_Fuck Queen Cynthia!_"

"Bebe," Joy snapped. "_Stop._"

And, this time, Barry shook his head and laughed.

"Aye. _Fuck Queen Cynthia_."

* * *

**Poor Queen Cynthia. No, but seriously, screw her and that Garchomp of hers. **

**And… hehe… November changing her name… even though the month is currently November right now (Happy Thanksgiving? Is that what you say, Americans?). **

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I have two important things to say: **

**First of all, for people who are following the Extended Universe, there have been some changes. Fuzzboy's Hoenn run is now moving from the future to the past, set around the 1800s (it hasn't been published yet). Vexan's story has now also joined the timeline; his story, "A Dream or Reality" is set in Kalos, a few centuries before mine. **

**So… this no longer makes me the girl of the past. I'm less special. Still, their stories are incredible and I have a lot to learn from them. **

**Now, some ****EXCITING**** news. I have counted up the number of secrets that I have hidden from the reader thus far (the ones that have had seeds planted – not all of them in total), and there's a total of nine. Not all of them are relevant to the plot in a drastic way (such as the narrator one), but they're all secrets nonetheless. In the next chapter, I'll be showing some statistics to say how many people have worked out each secret. Stay tuned! **


	18. Chapter XVII

**Chapter XVII**

The gladiators had been right – fighting the Song Sisters in the middle of Eterna Forest had been a death sentence.

One second, Gardenia, and Cheryl had been laughing as they offered Nova some bread and watched her fumble with her plumed helm, long cloak, and thick armour. They had even spent a few minutes teaching her how to ride a Rapidash – saying that she would need it if she wanted to complete their game within a day. And though the Rapidash had jumped onto its hind legs and lashed out with its hooves when she had just tugged the reins the wrong way, Nova was relieved to have it beside her. It was the only Pokémon with her, aside from Livia the Zubat.

The only _people _with her were Barry and two other gladiators – the only ones who had been brave enough (or stupid enough) to join her. One with a Kricketune, one with a Meditite.

The rules had been simple: choose one Pokémon, ride the Rapidash, and fight until they had beaten the Song Sister's _game_. They had even given the four gladiators a pair of gloves – soft as moss, brown as roots – to wear, to grip onto the reins.

Which was all very nice, except for the fact that Nova had no idea what _game _they were even playing.

And so, with Livia hovering by her shoulder, Nova and Barry rode. Even the two gladiators had followed them.

Beneath the boughs, it was hard to tell how long she had been riding for. Eterna Forest was more silent than ever before; no hum of bug Pokémon, no occasional twig-snap of a Pachirisu. Even the Rapidash made little noise, hooves moving along the soft moss and saplings instead of the bare dirt.

Nova wasn't sure how or where she was supposed to find the Song Sisters. She just followed the faint sound of rushing water, only stopping once she could see the pale tangle of tree roots against wet dirt, willows trailing into reeds along the water's edge.

Then, one of the gladiators – a young man whose scarf sagged around his face – reached out with his knife drawn, sharp and bright silver, and caught the head of the gladiator riding in front of him, cutting his throat in one deep red gash from side to side.

The other gladiator died without a sound. The Kricketune made a horrendous, retching noise before it fell off the Rapidash with its gladiator, blood spraying onto the leaves.

Nova heard Barry's Starly screech something in his ears, heard him curse and cry out, heard herself swear as Livia leapt into her arms. Then, they all watched as the Rapidash reared wildly, crying out as the gladiator sagged down off its back, and floundered into the brush. Out of sight.

The young gladiator with the knife was smiling. He turned slowly to Nova and Barry, grinning.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?" Nova demanded. "We're supposed to be killing the Song Sisters, you bastard, not fucking-"

She froze as she caught sight of his eyes. The blankness of them. As if he couldn't even see them.

"Starly, attack!"

Nova turned at Barry's sharp cry. His Starly was already upon the gladiator, attacking the Meditite in his lap. Nova, herself, was about to order Livia to follow after the Starly when she heard Barry snort.

"I hear a Meditite. Starly, I don't want you to attack the Meditite. Attack _Nova_."

_By the shitting shadows, what? _

Barry had clumsily flung himself off his Rapidash, his sword drawn, inching forwards. Without his Starly beside him, he was sliding his feet the wrong way – stumbling past the furrowed dirt and slipping into the water's edge. His cloak was floating around him in the water, his legs dragged down as his boots filled with water, and his body was sinking-

Nova wasn't sure whether she should save him or not.

He was her best friend.

And yet, he had ordered his Starly to _kill _her-

There was a sharp pain in Nova's arms. And, as she looked at her drowning friend, she wanted to smirk. To giggle. To laugh. To let him drown. It served him right for dragging her along this stupid quest of his, it served him right for making her steal from Duke Rowan in the first place-

The thoughts were like wildfire in her head.

She knew they were wrong. But they kept coming and coming, and she almost wanted to order Livia to hasten his drowning, to make him _suffer - _

_No. _

Nova forced away the thoughts – forced away the questions _about _the thoughts – and leapt off her Rapidash, running towards the water. Towards her friend. She yanked at his hands – almost incredulous that the gloves themselves didn't come off from the force of it all – and hauled him out, patting his back as he choked on the water, asking him if he was _okay- _

But somewhere, something was telling her to shove him back in. Something was telling her to _murder _him.

_No. _

Livia cried out, and suddenly, Barry was laughing as he lashed at her with his sword. He missed – it barely even nipped her shoulder – but she was suddenly tumbling into the river, the water climbing over her thighs, over her waist.

It was then that the Fat Little Zubat decided to stop being lazy and _fight_.

She sent a blast of wind from her wings at Barry, and poison oozed out of her teeth as the other gladiator – the one with the Meditite – tried to slash at her. Her teeth sank into the gladiator's cheek, but she was too small, her teeth were too weak, and it wasn't sharp enough to pierce the skin, and the gladiator was already raising his sword towards her-

"Livia, _no,_" Nova croaked.

And the Fat Little Zubat pushed harder. Pushed until her teeth really _did _plunge through the skin. Pushed until she felt a surge of strength, felt a plume of light around her, felt her body grow and stretch-

And suddenly, she was no longer the Fat Little Zubat.

She was the Fat Little Golbat.

The gladiator crumpled to the ground, leaving his Meditite calling out, agony wrangling its voice. By then, Nova had pulled herself out of the river, water dribbling down her armour.

Barry had pushed himself onto his feet, his eyes blank, yet murderous. His Starly hovered uncertainly beside his shoulder.

And, Nova, too, wanted to kill him. She wanted revenge for being shoved into the water. She wanted to stab her sword into his heart and watch him bleed and-

_No, no, no, no, no- _

_No. _

Instead, Nova turned on her heel, jumped on her Rapidash, and rode far away from her best friend.

The best friend that she suddenly wanted to kill.

* * *

Her gloves felt like they were squeezing the life out of her fingers as Nova, Livia the Golbat, and the Rapidash darted through the forest.

Without Barry near her, she felt her head clear. She no longer felt like ripping her sword from her belt and stabbing. She no longer felt like wanting him to drown.

No.

She felt _horrible. _How could she have _thought _that? And how could he have flung her into the water like that? Or ordered his own Starly to attack her?

And why had that gladiator killed a fellow gladiator when they were supposed to find the Song Sisters?

It didn't take much longer for Nova, herself, to find the Song Sisters.

Or, more specifically, it didn't take much longer for the Song Sisters to find _her_.

Behind her, she heard a sudden snapping noise, and out of nowhere, she was thrown out of her saddle. She hit the bare ground, pain splintering up her body, the air knocked out of her lungs.

And when she twisted, Golbat was on top of her. Livia had knocked her _off _the Rapidash because-

The Rapidash was in the air above her, headless. Gardenia was holding it in the air, her arms extended into vines, those vines wrapped around its body.

And beside her, a Carnivine spat out the Rapidash's head.

From where she lay on the ground, Nova heard Barry cry out on the other side of the trees– heard Cheryl yell back at him as their swords clanged.

And though she had many questions roiling in her head, Nova dragged her own sword from her belt and slashed at Gardenia.

She fought with everything she had – roaring out, curling her blade towards Gardenia's neck, pressing her shield forwards. There was a crack as Gardenia's arm – her arm that was now a _vine _– slammed into the shield, and Nova stumbled back, swearing.

No matter what she did – no matter how she fought and snapped her sword forwards – Gardenia was always one step ahead of her.

It shouldn't have surprised her. Nova knew that. The Song Sisters knew the songs before they were sung. They probably knew that Livia would try slashing at the Carnivine with her wing; they probably knew that Nova would scrape her armour against the bushes as she dodged one of Gardenia's vines.

They would always, _always _be one step ahead.

Nova put all her weight against the hilt of her sword and shoved it forwards. Gardenia slid out of the way with ease.

It was too easy for them. They knew all. They saw all.

"You're doing great, November!" a voice cheered. "You only nearly got slaughtered twenty-two times just then!"

Rotom's voice was shrill against Nova's ears. She swore as Gardenia's vine arm swept in a ring around her, and without even thinking, she quickly cracked her sword into the vine, snapping it, letting Gardenia curse as she pulled the vine away.

"Rotom, _help_," Nova called out.

There was a buzz beside her eat as Rotom hovered there. "Naw, that's cheating, November."

"It's _not_. The Song Sisters know bloody _everything _I'm about to do. _That's _cheating!"

"Well, _you're _the one who decided to go up against them. And you know they like mind games. If I hadn't heard the songs myself, I would have for _sure _thought you were gonna stab yer blind friend-"

Nova swore as Gardenia came at her again, forcing her to stumble beneath the boughs, to fall back into a bush of fruit that smelled hideously of blood.

"What is up with _that_?" she asked Rotom. "Why did Barry push me in? What did you do to him?"

Rotom snorted. "You wanted to push him in, too, did you not? What did you do to _yourself_?"

"Nothing! I-"

"Remember, Nova. They don't see _everything_. Also, those gloves look great on you-"

"Rotom, enough," Gardenia said. The edge of her wooden lip twitched, her vine swept towards the electric-type, and then, Rotom was gone. If one listened closely enough, they might have heard him swear about how _unfair _it was that he couldn't help a pretty little lass.

Nova, though, was too busy jumping back to care. She was too busy leaping back as more of Gardenia's vines slammed at her boots, as the Song Sister stepped closer and closer. Not even flinching as Nova's sword came hurtling towards her, only to be blocked by Gardenia's own vines.

It was impossible. The Song Sisters knew everything. They _saw _everything. And yet-

And yet, they hadn't seen some things coming.

They hadn't known about Theron's death. How hadn't they known about that?

_Sometimes, some futures change suddenly, and the songs change. Sometimes, the leaves never know what someone is going to do because they act too quickly._

That's what Cheryl had told her, was it not?

And, just like that, Nova had an idea. A stupid one. A ridiculous one.

But an idea.

"Livia!" she cried out. "Don't think! Just fight!"

And maybe the leaves already knew she would say that. Maybe the leaves already knew that she would stop thinking and just fight.

But the leaves certainly didn't know _how _she would fight.

For, by then, November had stopped thinking.

She screamed as she fought. She choked on her own screaming as she fought. As she held her sword and flung it blindly. As she arched her body and jabbed.

She didn't even think as her sword made a mark in Gardenia's shoulder. As golden sap slipped out thickly.

She didn't think as the gloves tightened around her hands. As she stabbed and stabbed and stabbed-

"Enough."

Nova blinked as she stepped back. As the voice echoed over her.

When she allowed herself to think – allowed herself to _see _the chaos – she took a sharp breath.

Livia had knocked the Carnivine unconscious, and its breaths were ragged as the Golbat hovered over it. Gardenia had scratches all along her face and body. She was smiling, even though golden liquid drooled down her cheeks.

"You really _have _been cursing people's mothers," she said.

Nova laughed weakly. "Is that your way of surrendering? Have I won?"

"You thought making _me_ surrender was the game? Oh, Arceus, no."

Another voice snorted back a laugh.

"Oh, man, November," Rotom was saying, his orange body bright as a flame as he appeared behind Gardenia. "Don't worry. It'll be over soon. You just need to-"

"_Rotom_."

An arrow flung itself towards the Pokémon, and with another curse, Rotom was gone.

Nova glanced back at where the arrow had come from and lost her breath.

There, behind her, was Barry and Cheryl.

"We were only distractions," Cheryl admitted, moving ever so slowly towards her. "We were only here to tire you out. Make you lose your will. You don't need _us _to surrender. It is _you _who needs to surrender."

Then, to Nova's absolute horror, Barry lunged for her – sword in hand, Starly hesitantly chirping in his ear.

Nova, herself, felt her stomach tumble with desire. With bloodlust.

It was back again – the pain in her head and fingers. The urge to kill him. The urge to whip her sword out and stab him in the heart.

_No. _

Nova stepped to the side as her friend rushed past her, his armour barely brushing against her own.

She wanted to kill him. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to tear his eyelashes off one by one. She wanted to talk to him about the colours of the sunrise.

Why? _Why_?

It must have been one of the Song Sisters' mind games.

But how? How could they _possibly _do that?

Barry was frowning, panting, struggling to regain his balance. He swore as he shook his hands, cursing the bloody gloves for being so tight, cursing as he tugged at the cuffs-

"Hey," he suddenly said. "I can't take them off."

And that's when Nova glanced down at her own hands. At the gloves the Song Sisters had gifted her.

The edge of the glove was stuck onto her hand, like they were roots seeping into her flesh. Hell, she could even _see _roots weaving past the gloves, crawling up her forearm, no doubt stretching up to her elbow – hidden perfectly behind the armour.

Finally, the pieces clicked into place.

Whatever the Song Sisters had done with the gloves, it was changing the way they _thought_.

And, as Nova glanced up, she felt that bloodlust again. She wanted to rip her sword out and throw it at Barry's nose. Curse him for dragging her into this bloody mess. Curse him for making her watch two gladiators die before her eyes. Curse him for making her watch a Carnivine spit out a Rapidash's head. Curse him, hug him, kill him-

Nova drew her sword.

_It is you who needs to surrender._

And when Barry ran towards her, his sword raised, his Starly so silent that he was no longer even running the right direction, Nova held her sword high.

And sliced her own wrist off.

She expected blood. She expected pain. She expected her hand to fall to the ground.

Instead, though, only the glove fell to the ground – all hard and crusty and made of wood. With another quick slice, the other glove was on the mud.

It was like Nova could suddenly _breathe _again. Think again.

Even when she looked at Barry, she just felt affection. That was _her _best friend. And she wouldn't let _anyone _hurt him.

Barry's Starly and Nova's Golbat were already rushing towards Barry, both of them clawing at either glove, and when they were off-

"Aw, bloody hell, me head hurts. Did ye _have _to peck at me bollocks like that, Starly?"

It was all back to normal.

"See?" Rotom exclaimed, materialising behind Cheryl once again. "I told ya! The songs were _right _this time! Lick my ass, Cheryl! Just like Lady F-"

Once again, the poor Rotom had to disappear as Cheryl hurled an arrow at him. But even then, the Song Sister couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

"He really was the one to notice the gloves," Gardenia breathed out. "And she was the one who resisted the gloves. The songs…"

Cheryl nodded. "The mind and the will. It's true."

The next few seconds were a blur to Nova. One second, she was staring down at the gloves. Then, in the next, she was hugging Barry, yanking off his helm and checking for wounds, laughing as he told her she smelled like piss.

"It's a shame that the other two gladiators had to go," Gardenia murmured. "And the Rapidash. Did it have to be like that, Cheryl?"

"Aye."

"She'll have nightmares after that."

Cheryl frowned. "It had to happen. She must learn."

"To deal with blood? Death?"

"To deal with becoming a beast."

The pair then moved towards the two gladiators, legionary crystals shining in their hands.

And, with that, both November and Barry of Twinleaf were the first two gladiators to earn crystals from Gardenia _and_ Cheryl, the two Eterna Legionaries.

* * *

"It's not okay, Nova! I nearly killed you! I nearly killed me best friend!"

"Barry, I'm fine. I wanted to kill you, too."

"But you didn't!"

"And neither did you."

Nova lay on the woollen carpet of Barry's room at the Eterna Inn, Leila the Budew snuggled up in her arms, while the rest of her Pokémon sat around her. Only Livia the Golbat and Cinnamon the Meditite – who she had adopted after the gladiator battle – were gone with Barry's Starly, tucked away with Joy somewhere, getting their cuts stitched up.

Meanwhile, Barry's Piplup was rolling her eyes as she watched her gladiator pace back and forth in the room, looking completely ridiculous with his outstretched arms and shaking steps.

"What if I'd hurt you?" he asked distantly. "Nova, if I hurt you…"

Finally, Nova stood onto her feet and caught him mid-stride. She held him by the shoulders, placing a warm hand on his cheek.

"Barry. I'm fine. The Song Sisters had made those gloves _knowing _what would happen."

Her friend sagged into her arms. Then, with a sigh, he said, "Say, what colour is this crystal?"

"Green. Like the taste of fresh berries. Or the sound of Joy's voice."

"Joy's voice, eh?" Barry grinned. "I thought it was more like a pink. Ya know, sounds like hope, feels like a _kiss-_"

"Are you saying you want to kiss her?"

"I'm saying that I would rather kiss her than keep kissing the back of me hand every night for practice."

Nova shoved him away as he pretended to pucker his lips, laughing. "You're a sop."

He caught her hand and grinned. "I missed you, November. And I'm sorry for trying to kill you."

"It wasn't you, though."

"Aye. It wasn't _either _of us."

* * *

Nova had insisted on leaving her Pokémon with Barry, who was too scared to sleep on his own – who kept hearing screams and gurgling whenever he lay down on his bed. She had forced all of the Pokémon in the room to circle around him until all he could hear was their gentle breathing, Tric's occasional snores, and Leila's sleep murmuring.

When she was sure that all of them were asleep, she inched out of the room and into the hall and felt someone reach for her elbow. Someone with fingers as rough as bark.

"I never thanked you," the voice said. "For saving my life."

Nova smiled grimly. "You're still dead, you know."

"I like to think of myself as alive. Just a little bruised up."

The gladiator turned on her heel to face the legionary. In Gardenia's hands, poking out from beneath her cloak, was a big, pink egg. A Pokémon egg.

"What's that?"

Gardenia raised the egg and placed it into Nova's hand, saying, "A gift."

"An egg?"

"It's from all the Song Sisters. An apology for that… legionary battle."

Nova had been trying all night not to think about it. About the blood. About the Rapidash head. About the way Barry had thrown her into the water. About the murderous thoughts that had crawled into her head.

"It was a test," Gardenia continued. "The leaves keep changing the songs, and they needed to be sure of something for themselves…"

"Of what?"

"I can't sing, dear November. I can only hum."

Nova had to fight back the urge to roll her eyes.

_Stupid cryptic people and their cryptic arses. _

"What's the point?" she demanded. "Okay, so, what, the Song Sisters know something now. But you lot can't do anything about it, can you?"

"We can. We can decide if our own sacrifices will be worth it one day."

"_What_?"

Gardenia shook her head. "I can't sing-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake-"

"-but I can make _you _sing. And I can tell you about the leaves only – not the songs on them. And Cheryl did say that I could sing about songs that have already happened."

This time, Nova arched her brow.

"Do you remember why I needed your help in the first place?" Gardenia asked.

"A tree was in yer way. You thought it was a traitor Song Sister."

The legionary nodded eagerly, leaves and twigs bouncing along with her head. "Aye. What does that mean?"

"A Song Sister because a turncoat to help the Galactic Healers?"

"Aye. And what did Jupiter say about me when she saw me come in?"

Nova had to think on that one – had to dig deep into the memories she had sworn she would forget just days ago.

_Ah, finally. I was waiting for the legionary to hurry up and arrive…_

"She was expecting you," the gladiator finally answered.

"_Exactly_." Gardenia's eyes seemed far too bright against the shadows of the night, with only moonlight along her hair and face. "Cheryl told me that I was always going to die there. Always. In my own arena. At the hands of Jupiter. The leaves were saying that even _before _I was born."

Nova reached out to squeeze the legionary's hand. "Oh, Gardenia, I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. Now, remember what Jupiter said about _you_?"

"She called me a wretched beggar."

Gardenia snorted. "And?"

"And she said that she didn't know I would be coming."

"Aye." The legionary was practically beaming as she added, "The Song Sister helping the Galactic Healers didn't know of you. She didn't know you would be there to stop me from completely dying. Which means that she left before the leaves started singing about you."

Gardenia leaned closer, then, pressing the egg into Nova's hands.

"Here's the thing, November," she whispered. "I haven't been a Song Sister for very long. But I know this: on your eighteenth birthday, there was a change in the songs. A massive one. Before, the leaves kept falling and changing – but they were always small things, like songs about a girl who became a beggar to feed her mother. On your birthday, though, there was something you did. And now, the songs about you change more than ten times in a single second. And the Song Sisters can't keep up with it. So, they needed the test to be sure…"

Nova raised her hand. "Wait. What did I do on me birthday?"

"You tell me."

"I bloody ate some bread, ripped me scarf, spat in Prince Volkner's face-"

Gardenia's wooden lips stretched into a grin. "_Yes._ You spat in Prince Volkner's face. Because, if you hadn't, he wouldn't have stepped on your cake. You would have then convinced Barry to come along and taste some, and he wouldn't have gone for the Starly, and-"

"And I would never have stolen from Duke Rowan."

"Precisely."

Nova could hardly take it all in. She just watched as Gardenia planted one last, soft kiss on her forehead.

"Cheryl didn't want me to tell you any of this," the legionary confessed. "She said it might change the songs even more. But I owed you."

"Consider your debt paid, Gardenia."

Gardenia took a step back and nodded. Then, as she turned around, she called out over her shoulder, "One last thing."

"Aye?"

"You may want to keep your door unlocked before you sleep."

"Why?"

"I can't sing, Nova. I can only hum."

* * *

Sure enough, Nova was only in her small little bed for a few minutes when she heard the door squeal open. The second she saw the intruder's blue eyes, blue gloves, splay of dark hair, and that stupidly but perfectly crooked hat, Nova was on her feet and in his arms.

"Oh, Arceus, November…" Sir Lucas breathed out. He ran his fingers down her hair, down her arms, feeling every bruise and cut and graze. "I spoke to Barry and Cheryl. Are you okay?"

"I smell like piss, this room smells like piss, my _hair _smells like piss-"

He laughed. "I thought smelling like piss was normal for you."

"_And _a bloody knight thought it would be a good idea to barge into my room and tell me that I always smell like piss. So I'm bloody fantastic."

They waited a while in the dark, smiling as they heard some drunk man stumble and vomit outside the door. Then, Nova frowned and stepped back.

"These past few days have been shit, Lucas. Really, really shit."

Lucas moved to the edge of the room, slid down the wall and onto the bed. He rested on his side, tugging Nova down so she was lying on her back in front of him – his arm beneath her head like a pillow. The gladiator could only watch him in complete awe as he threw his hat onto the ground.

"Tell me about it?" he asked. He was looking at her face. Giving her a chance to say no without having to say it out loud.

Nova didn't speak. Or nod. Or answer.

Instead, she looked down and shifted slightly towards him, leaning so that she could face him.

She didn't have to speak very loudly when he was that close – which was good, because her voice was almost gone. But, Arceus, he was warm and, up close, he smelt so much like _himself _– like tea and steel – it made her want to tear up.

Her eyes were tired. She was tired.

When she told him about Theron – Bebe's father – and his death, Lucas took a sharp breath. By that time, Nova's cheek was on his chest, and she could feel his heart thrumming. She took a deep breath as her voice broke a little more, as Lucas tightened his grip around her.

There was too much blood in her words. Too many arms and swords and dead bodies. Some that were dead because of _her_.

She had expected to laugh when she told him about cursing everyone's mothers, but she didn't, because it meant that Gardenia was about to die next in her story, and she thought that maybe Lucas was crying. Maybe Nova was crying, too.

Her eyes were tired. She was tired.

"And then, Gardenia gave me that egg, told me to leave my door unlocked, and you came along…"

The moment she said it, Lucas pulled her into him. Onto him. With both arms. Her chest pressed against his, and his fingers tracing little circles along her back.

Nova's eyes were half closed, and so were Lucas's when he pressed his forehead lightly against her own.

Her eyes closed, and her eyelids stuck. She wanted to open them. She wanted to get a better look at Lucas's dark brows, she wanted to look at his crazy hair, and she had this sick feeling that it may never happen again, so she wanted to just open her bloody eyes and bear some witness.

But she was so tired.

And his fingers were so soft.

And she had never felt so safe before.

Nova brought her fingers up to his hair, and she couldn't open her eyes.

Eventually, she couldn't stay awake.

"…_well, this is bothersome…" _

* * *

**This was… long. Another brief catch was mentioned: **

**Cinnamon the Meditite, named after Cinnamon Girl from The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl by Melissa Keil. **

**As promised, it is secrets and statistics time. This is in order of when I started planting clues. This is not ALL the secrets – just the ones that have been hinted at so far. **

**Secret #1: About a third of you have worked this one out. You know who you are, and you are enjoying every second of it. I know you are.**

**Secret #2: No one even touched on it until suddenly, I get two messages from two different people who have cracked the code. Well done!**

**Secret #3: No one has touched on it yet, but that's understandable – it's barely been hinted at, and it isn't relevant just yet. **

**Secret #4: Ah, yes, the narrator. It's hilarious because one person found the important sentence, got the name right, but didn't link it to them being the narrator. Someone else found the important sentence, linked it to them being the narrator, but didn't work out a name. If the two of you combined, you'd have it. **

**Secret #5: Only one person has mentioned this to me, which… surprises me. **

**Secret #6: No one has touched on it except one mad genius. Well done! You don't know who you are because I haven't confirmed/denied it with you, but, still, you will eventually!**

**Secret #7: No one has touched on it. Kind of odd. Kind of understandable. **

**Secret #8: No one has mentioned it, but this is completely understandable because it isn't relevant. Yet. **

**Secret #9: No one has mentioned it, but it's relatively new and isn't all that relevant. Yet. **

**Thanks for reading! I couldn't think of a song for this gladiator battle. But if you can think of one, let me know!**


	19. Chapter XVIII

**Chapter XVIII**

Nova groaned as someone pushed open the curtains in her room, as light streamed into her eyes. She hadn't had any nightmares at all – and she most certainly hadn't dreamt of human heads. Or Rapidash heads, for that matter.

"Cheryl tells me you're piss-poor at riding Rapidash."

And there came back the images, punching into her skull.

Nova sat up groggily, blinking away the thoughts of the blood and fangs that had been inside the Carnivine's mouth. Instead, she glared at Lucas, who was standing by the door, a slip of paper in his hand.

"Is that a list of everything I'm piss-poor at?" she asked him.

"Not everything. It wouldn't all fit on one page. These are just the ones that you're _really _bad at."

Nova threw her head back into the pillow. "Oh, piss off."

"Ah, yes. Would you look at that? It says here that you're tremendously piss-poor in the art of showing gratitude towards young knights who offer you a fun morning out."

"Piss _off_."

* * *

There were two things Nova learnt that morning about Lucas's idea of a 'fun morning out'.

The first: _morning _meant _sunrise. _All gladiators were still in their bed chambers, sleeping and preparing for their challenge, when Lucas dragged Nova out to see the sun filling the sky with peach and amber and rose. Even Barry had been snoring away, sleep talking so loudly that Nova couldn't help but laugh as she passed by his door and heard him mumble something about Sir Riley's pretty lips.

The second thing she learnt, though, was that Lucas had a _very _different definition of _fun_.

Eterna's stable seemed more like a large shed made of oak planks. The iron roof looked like it could barely fight a thunderstorm, let alone house a dozen Rapidash. Nonetheless, Lucas was already pushing his way inside, greeting each Rapidash with a smile, and beckoning for two of them to follow him.

"Lucas," Nova said, watching as he prepared the saddle, "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It'll be fine."

Nova didn't take her eyes off the Rapidash before her. It was a gorgeous thing – the wind whipped her flames, and she seemed so calm, so gentle.

And yet, all the gladiator could see was a head. Tumbling onto the ground. Blood spewing out of it.

"What's wrong, November?" Lucas asked. "Are you scared I'm going to beat your arse at this as well?"

Nova turned to hiss at him. "You will _not _kick my arse."

"I already am."

And, just like that, Lucas was mounted on his own Rapidash, the thundering of its hooves splitting the silence as it darted down the dirt road.

_Oh, the bastard… _

Nova didn't waste another second. She hauled herself onto the Rapidash and ordered for it to chase after him. The Pokémon's muscles rippled beneath her flames, and as the wind whistled against the gladiator's face, she couldn't help it – she laughed.

The rush of it. The _thrill _of it. The feel of the rolling muscles, the brush of the short coat, the heat of the flames that unfurled so close to her face. The quiver of the haunches as they galloped, the toss of her own head as they galloped after the knight, the way the Rapidash turned slightly so that Nova could see those big brown eyes grinning back at her, the way Lucas's jaw dropped as her Rapidash passed his-

It was everything.

By the end of it, she wasn't sure who made it first to the other stables – the stables that hung just outside Oreburgh. Both she and Lucas had arrived at the same time, calling out at the same time, scowling at one another at the same time.

"I won," Lucas told her as they slid off their Rapidash. "I definitely reached the stable first."

"Oh, not a bloody chance. It was me, and you know it. Besides, you cheated!"

Lucas laughed as she jabbed her finger into his chest. Then, he reached out and moved the long strands of her hair away from her face, out of her eyes.

"Your hair was in yours eyes," he said. "No wonder you're confused. I clearly won."

"Piece of shit."

The knight threw up his hands in exasperation. "You wound me, Nova. No matter how hard I try to impress you, it always ends with you calling me a piece of shit. What must I do? Walk through fire for you?"

"If you want me to stop calling you a piece of shit, stop acting like a piece of shit."

Someone cleared their voice near them, and as Nova turned, she saw someone move out from inside the stables.

No, not someone. Joy _and _Bebe, as well as all the Pokémon that had accompanied her thus far. Before she knew it, Nova was stumbling back as Bebe hurtled towards her, followed by a Monferno, Luxio, Shellos, Budew, Staravia, and Golbat.

Indeed, readers and writers. Nine really _is _a crowd.

Only Cinnamon the Meditite lingered back, not far from Joy and the pink egg, eyes downcast into the mud.

"What are you lot doing?" Nova asked Joy. "The sun just rose. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Lucas stepped beside her. "I asked them to escort you to Hearthome," he quickly said.

"Why so bloody early?"

"Yeah, why so bloody early?" Bebe grumbled. "I hate sunrises. I was having such a swell dream about dancing at the Spring Dance with cute boys, drinking ale…"

"You're too young to be drinking ale," Lucas pointed out.

Bebe rolled her eyes. "Aye, I'm a wee little lass who can't drink ale, but who can go watch people vomit their guts out in the Veilstone Games?"

No one could argue with that. Not even Joy, who was silently staring at Lucas, her eyes so _furious _that Nova wondered whether the healer had planned on stabbing the knight.

"You've gotten a lot of attention after the last two legionary battles," Lucas finally said, turning to Nova. "Many saw you against Frazer, and though no one saw you against Gardenia and Cheryl, the two men that _didn't _survive that trial were supposed to be two of the best gladiators. People – both patrons and gladiators – are suspicious of you, and I want you out of here before they start planning something."

Nova nodded. "And Barry?"

"I promised him a ride with the Rapidash, _and _some training before we moved into Hearthome."

Finally, Joy cleared her throat again.

"Pay up," she said coldly, holding her hand out to the knight.

Nova watched, eyes wide, as Lucas pulled out a bulging pouch of gold and dropped it into the healer's hands.

"That's a lot of gold," she said warily.

"It's for our gowns and masks," Joy told her. "For the Hearthome Ball."

Bebe grinned. "And the extra gold is to shut us up about his secret-"

"_Bebe_," Lucas quickly said, ever so gently. "A promise is a promise."

"Yes, sir."

Nova frowned.

Secret? What secret would he need to keep from _her_?

"Don't worry," Lucas said, reaching out to pat Nova on the shoulder. "I'll tell you later."

"When?"

"After our first dance, of course."

* * *

Joy only complained about Nova having all her Pokémon beside her for a few minutes as they moved towards Hearthome. Then, as they moved over the mud that had been trampled hard and bare – and very clearly washed out in winding gullies by the rain – they heard a voice.

"Please, _please_, be okay," a man was crying out, huddled beside a Machop – one that seemed so weak and bruised and shrivelled up that it made _breathing _look painful. "_Please_."

Nova was upon him in seconds, ignoring Joy's protest.

"What happened?" she asked.

The man glanced up at her, and though he was an armoured gladiator too, he barely even stopped to take in Nova's belt. "A man… Some man with a Honchkrow mask promised to heal my Machop after Roark's legionary trial. He put this red chain around it and now…"

"I'll heal your Machop," Joy offered. "I have a few-"

"Stay _away_," the man hissed at her, his hand already at his sword. "You and you blasted healers… you're all witches!"

Nova felt her stomach turn as Joy flinched back. Then, she grabbed the gladiator by the ear and tugged him towards her.

"She is _not _a witch, you hear?" she snapped. "She is the best healer I've met, and if you touch her, I'll shove my sword so far up your arse that you'll have to shit from your mouth."

"Shit already comes out of his mouth," Bebe chimed in.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tric the Monferno give her a wink. Before Nova had the chance to twist the gladiator's ear any harder, she felt Joy yank at her arm and drag her away.

"Nova, _no_," the healer whispered furiously. "You're drawing too much attention."

It was true. As the sun rose higher in the sky, more gladiators were moving away from Oreburgh and towards Mt Coronet – the only path to Hearthome. Most of them were eyeing her and her crowd of Pokémon sceptically, and the sight of her crouched over a sick Pokémon while twisting its gladiator's ear-

Well, it certainly was not the best first impression to have around.

But Nova already had another idea in mind – another idea that would be perfect for training her Pokémon _and _setting up a good name for Joy. She turned to her Pokémon and grinned.

"My champions, let's go and get _creative_."

* * *

Joy and Bebe were setting up some breakfast while Nova and her team got _creative_. The healer was just spreading some crushed berries on sourdough when she felt the rumble of footsteps, the heat of a stampede.

And when she glanced up, she swore.

There was Nova, practically grinning as she stalked over to her, her Pokémon only a step behind her. In Rhys the Luxio's mouth was a Psyduck, bleeding by the forehead. Livia the Golbat was dragging a Buizel by the tail, while Tric the Monferno and Leila the Budew were tossing a Bronzor back and forth. Then came Owl the Shellos, who was riding on a Ponyta (who looked far too bruised to be walking in the first place), and was squealing excitedly to a Chingling (who had blood _pooling _from its mouth as Bailey carried it).

So many Pokémon. So many of them injured.

What the _hell _was Nova doing?

"Oh, _Joy,_" Nova called out, ever the actress – clutching her heart, moaning in despair, wiping what was supposed to be tears from her eyes. "Heal them, please Joy! _Please_! My darlings! Oh, what shall become of them?"

By then, they were definitely getting _more _than a few stares. All eyes of gladiators and patrons and spectators alike were on Nova and Joy and the mass of Pokémon between them.

"Save them, Joy!" Nova cried. "My babies! My darlings!"

"Nova, _shut up_," Joy tried to hiss.

Bebe pushed her aside. "Save them, Joy! Her _babies_!"

"You're both full of shit."

Then, Leila the Budew started crying. Fake tears, no doubt, but still, loud enough for even _more _heads to turn towards them. Then, Rhys started howling too, followed by Tric and Livia and Bailey and Owl and even the damned _Meditite-_

Finally, Joy had no choice. With all eyes on her, she ripped open her bag and tore out the herbs and roots and vials of alcohol. Then, she worked on each and every one of them – the Psyduck, the Buizel, the Bronzor, the Chingling, and the Ponyta.

Eyes stayed on her the whole time. All gladiators seemed to crowd around her, muttering something about witches to each other, but stopping short as each Pokémon chirped and smiled once she was done with them.

"She's _good_," one of the gladiators murmured. "She's actually _healing_."

"Good?" a voice replied – Nova's voice, for sure. "She's fucking fantastic, you nonce."

Then, others were upon her, asking if she could check their Turtwig's bruised lips, or their Gligar's broken wing, or the infected pimple on their face. A few lingered back, suspicious, but even they couldn't help but sigh and ask for her help as more and more Pokémon were treated. As more and more Pokémon were healed.

Nova sat back and watched as Joy darted from Pokémon to Pokémon, gladiator to gladiator. She had helped out at first, but with Bebe scurrying by the healer's side and scraping the roots against her boot, it seemed they didn't even need her.

Instead, she waited and watched. Listened to the other gladiators praise the healer. Smiled as Joy's face lit up when a young lass kissed her hand, as one offered her gold. And, as Joy shook her head and placed the gold back into the girl's hand, Nova picked up Owl the Shellos, turned on her heel, and moved into the mouth of Mt Coronet.

She had a Honchkrow Man to find.

* * *

Nova had expected the darkness upon entering the cave. She had expected the frigid pools of stagnant water by her boots, and she had expected the rough cold walls of rock around her. The smell of blood and sweat and steel – she was used to all of that.

She hadn't expected the singing, though. A low, smooth voice sailed through the cavern, slipping around her, as rich as velvet.

_A will of steel, a heart of gold_

_A mind both young and old_

_A ring of death – no pulse, no breath_

_Of champions both brave and bold…_

Nova followed the voice, tightening her grip on the Shellos. She couldn't help it – it was as if the words themselves were singing to her heart, drawing her closer, pulling her deeper.

_Three souls living, five souls dead_

_And one ready to create the end… _

She could see the singer then – the tufts of blue and grey hair sticking out from behind his mask.

_Oh, adamant, oh lustrous, come to Spear Pillar_

_For the final roar of time; the final spacial rend…_

And only when his voice came to a halt did Nova realise that his mask was a Honchkrow mask.

"I didn't realise I had an audience," he mused.

Nova dared a step closer to him, ignoring the chill that broke across her skin as she took one glance at his calculating eyes. "What was yer song about?"

"The song?" He laughed a short, sharp laugh. "Have you ever made a mistake, dear? And wanted so badly to start again? _That _is what the song is about."

Had Nova not felt her heart tighten as he readjusted his Honckrow mask, she may have rolled her eyes at that damned _cryptic _answer. Instead, though, she moved closer.

"You're a Galactic Healer," she said. Not a question. A challenge.

"Aye. Their head physician. You can call me Cyrus."

So _that _was the name of the man who had ordered Bebe's father's death. The one who had ordered Gardenia's death. The one who had hurt so many Pokémon, and was making _all _healers look like pieces of shit.

Nova felt for her sword.

"You're a bastard," she spat.

Then, she was upon him, her sword raised, her heart in her throat-

A gust of wind sent her sprawling back. Her Shellos tried to spit water out at it, but it was no use – whatever it was, it was moving too fast, and it was too dark for either of them to _see- _

Nova caught sight of dark feathers that perfectly matched the man's mask. An _actual _Honchkrow. It snatched her Shellos out of her hands and _squeezed, _and as Owl cried out, Nova felt her own blood turn cold, felt her own stomach drop in agony.

"Honchkrow. Let the Shellos go."

Upon the man's orders, Shellos was falling to the ground. Nova dropped her sword in seconds and reached out to catch the slug, cradling her to her chest.

"I don't want to hurt you," Cyrus said. "I have no intention to harm anyone. I only need to kill the five. Otherwise, no harm at all."

"No harm?" Nova repeated. "_No harm_? You started a fire in Floaroma! A fucking _fire_!"

Cyrus rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to get the attention of three little ones. They usually come in times of distress. The fire – the _bait _– didn't work, though. In fact, nothing seems to be…"

He trailed off suddenly, his eyes wide. Nova followed his gaze and frowned.

It was the Abra. Staring at her. At him. At nothing and everything all at once.

Nova saw a glimmer of steel and cried out as Cyrus flung a dagger at the Abra. Her Shellos acted instantly, shooting water straight at the metal, and though it wasn't enough to stop the dagger entirely, it was enough to make it veer off to the side and go straight over the Abra's head.

Then, with a nod towards Nova and the Shellos, the Abra was gone.

"You _fool_," Cyrus spat, turning to Nova. "You bloody _fool_. I should see you _flogged _for that." Then, glancing up at his Honchkrow, he said, "Honchkrow, chase it. It can't have gone too far. What the hell is it even doing here?"

Nova bit her lip.

She had an itching feeling in her gut that the Abra was there because of her. Whatever Meryl and Ulysses had asked of it, she had no idea. But there was no way it could have _accidentally_ followed her from the Oreburgh Gates to Frazer's den, and _now, _to Mt Coronet.

No. There had to be something more.

"You're lucky I'm a merciful man, otherwise I wouldn't be letting you go, young lass," Cyrus finally said. He gestured at her shield, adding, "You're also lucky that my son clearly fancies you. And I miss him."

And before she could ask him about that – about Lucas, about the shield, about the Abra – he was stalking off the other way, his voice like honey as he sang.

_A will of steel, a heart of gold_

_A mind both young and old_

_A ring of death – no pulse, no breath_

_Of champions both brave and bold_

_Three souls living, five souls dead_

_And one ready to create the end_

_Oh, adamant, oh lustrous, come to Spear Pillar_

_For the final roar of time; the final spacial rend…_

* * *

**I hate poetry. That's it. That's my author's notes for this chapter. **

**Oh, wait, the catches! I took a bit of creative license regarding the order, but these were the first encounters and catches: **

**Duane the Psyduck: Named after Duane from Succubus Blues by Richelle Mead. **

**Harlequin the Bronzor: Named after Judge Harlequin Brown from The Double Edged Sword by Sarah Silverwood. **

**Nissa the Ponyta: Named after Nissa from The Gathering by Isobelle Carmody. **

**Estella the Chingling: Named after Estella from Under Your Wings by Tiffany Tsao. **

**Sami the Buizel: Named after Sami from Bombproof by Micheal Robotham. **


	20. Chapter XIX

**Chapter XIX**

Nova couldn't quite believe her eyes as she stumbled around Hearthome, Owl the Shellos in her arms, Bailey the Staravia hovering close by her shoulder, and Tric the Monferno hanging onto her leg.

It was the morning of the Spring Dance, and people were _everywhere_. All sorts of people were scavenging around, trading gowns and suits, flaunting their jewellery about, arguing over which mask they should wear. She saw gladiators dropping their armour for a day to wear tunics sewn with gold thread, she saw children chasing each other in their clopping heels and gowns, and – of course – she saw people gather around the roads, cheering as legionaries from around Sinnoh paraded in.

Nova, herself, couldn't care less about the legionaries. Instead, she ran the opposite direction, her hands trailing the iron fences with curling designs along the top. She wasn't sure if she would be able to trace her way back to Joy and Bebe – not when every manor was made of rich sandstone, not when every oversized window in every oversized home gave her a glimpse of oak floors and warm candlelight and spiralling staircases. Not when every single one of them was perfect; no dirt, no flakes, no dents.

All merchants in the area seemed to have already sold all their masks.

All except for _one_.

"Bloody hell," Nova said, grinning. "Again?"

For, after minutes of trailing through Hearthome, the young gladiator found herself face to face with her favourite old crone.

The crone shook her head, and though Nova _still _couldn't see her face, she could have sworn the old lady was grinning. "Well, if it isn't dear November."

"If you weren't so old, I would think you were fancying me."

"Call me old one more time, young lass, and I'll tell knights you were stealin' from me and have you arrested."

Nova raised her arms in surrender, glancing down at the woman's stocks – herbs, roots, powders, and a single blue mask with a red strip beneath the chin. "Aye, aye. So, you sell masks, too?"

"Spring Dance is tonight. _Everyone _sells masks if they want some good coin."

"And how much is this one?" Nova asked, lifting the blue mask to her face.

The old crone leaned back against the sandstone wall, folded her arms, and snorted. "The Gible mask? Six hundred gold coins."

"Six hundred _what_?" Nova pressed the mask back onto the table. "_I _should be telling knights that _you're _stealin' from _me_!"

"If you want, we can trade…"

This time, Nova only rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. You want yer armour back? Perhaps you want the guts of my unborn babe?"

"Lass, have some respect. I would never ask for guts. Now, eyeballs, though…"

"You're mad."

"That's why we get along, is it not?"

And, despite how absolutely _ridiculous _Nova thought the mask and the cost was, she couldn't help but smile.

The crone was right. They _did _get along far too well.

"Listen," the woman said slowly, "I can give this mask to you for free. But I need something in return, you see. This is from the ancestors of Celestic, and I can't just give it…"

"What do you need from me?"

"I want you to tell me about Twinleaf."

For a second, Nova thought she was joking. It _had _to be a joke.

But when the old crone placed the mask gently in her hands, she realised that, by _Arceus_, the old snot was _serious_.

"What?" Nova burst out. "Why would you want to know about that shithole?"

"I am looking for something."

"For what? Sand? Garbage? Prince Volkner's spit?"

The old crone shook her head. "I want to know about the _people_. Everyone that you know from that shithole. Then, the mask is yours."

Nova leaned across the table, let herself smell the mint and wood dust that belonged to the old crone. "First thing, do _not _call it a shithole."

"You _just_ called it a shithole, lass."

"Aye, but it's _my _shithole. Not yours."

The old crone bowed her head as Nova stared. "Aye. Apologies, lass. Do we still have a deal?"

And so, Nova told her about everything. About Blind Boy Barry. About Vernia, her mother who had danced with the winds – something she had only learnt _days _ago.

She told her about the little boy who lived next door, who couldn't speak properly because he had lost all his teeth. She told her about the woman who only had short stumps instead of arms, and was Twinleaf's oldest citizen to live – almost fifty. She told her about the man missing his leg, about the baby who lived for a few days because she hacked out her lungs in a deadly cough, about the young girl with a ripped piece of skin instead of an ear.

She told her about how they sometimes dug through the mounds of garbage together. She told her about how, once, the royals had dumped a giant lump of mashed carrots and potatoes, and how the entire village of Twinleaf had gathered to feast on it – even if sand was the only plate they had.

And as she told story after story, the old crone continued shaking her head. Frowning. As if Nova wasn't quite saying the right thing.

But, at the end, she still gave the mask.

And, at the end, with Bailey, Tric, and Owl all leaning their heads against her, Nova realised one thing for sure.

Twinleaf may have been a shithole.

But it was _her _shithole.

* * *

With all inns booked out completely for the Spring Dance, Nova, Bebe, and Joy had nowhere to dress into all the gowns they had bought using Lucas's gold. And, even if they _had _found a room, there was no way it would have fit all of the Pokémon they were stringing along – all twelve, plus an egg and Bebe's Glameow.

Instead, Joy had come up with a much better idea.

"Lady Fantina's gardens?" Nova asked slowly. "Really?"

Joy shrugged. "She never uses it. We'll be fine."

Sure enough, the gardens were completely empty. No one was near the line of bonsai trees, nor were there any children gaping at the flowering lily pads along the small lake. No one except Bebe, anyways, who was running across the garden – naked as a newborn babe – her hands touching the riot of flowers.

"Bebe, get back here!" Joy called out.

"_Never_!"

"Bebe, you can't go in a filthy tunic."

"I am _not _wearing a corset!"

Nova sighed and exchanged a glance with Tric. In seconds, the Monferno was off, darting through the gardens. There was a squeal, an exasperated sigh, and finally, Nova saw Tric move back towards them, dragging Bebe by the hand, letting her slide across the grass.

"I'm _not _wearing a corset," the girl insisted. "I would rather die!"

Nova knelt down beside Bebe and sighed. "Can you just wear your gown for a few minutes? I want to see you put it on, so I can work out how to put on mine. I've never worn one before, you know, so I need to see someone do it."

"Go watch Joy change."

"Gross. Why would I see that when she has no teeth, green lips, and hair all over her tongue?"

Finally, Bebe cracked a grin. "Okay, _fine_."

With Joy's help, they managed to slip Bebe into a dress – one that was as red and gold as autumn leaves, with buttons and hooks and, bloody hell, there was even _lace_ tying it all together at the back. Bebe had even choked when Joy tightened the corset, and though it made the dress fall in neat folds by her feet, Nova knew that it would be hell to breathe in it.

Nonetheless, when Bebe's blonde ringlets were pulled behind her head and golden glitter was gently smattered across her Glameow mask, Nova took a step back and smiled.

"Bebe, you look beautiful."

Bebe scowled. "You're just saying that, Nova."

"No. You look really, really beautiful," the gladiator insisted. "If I were a young lad, I wouldn't be able to take me eyes of you."

Though the small girl looked dubious, she took a glance down at her dress, at the golden leaf designs along her waist. With a small voice, she asked, "Really?"

"Really. You're going to have so many young lads asking for a dance."

"What if they're all ugly?"

Nova grinned. "Take a few sips of ale. Once you've had enough, they'll all look delicious."

"Delicious?" Bebe repeated. "Nova, they're boys! You kiss them, not eat them!"

"You're not supposed to bite off their ears? I've been doin' it all wrong then, lass."

As Bebe began to laugh, someone cleared their voice behind them. Nova turned on her heel, and she couldn't help it – then and there, she gasped.

Joy had already changed into a gown with a high-collar, all soft and silky and long enough that a single puff of wind made the skirts sweep above her ankles. It was as pink as the Happiny mask on her face, and Nova suspected that, even behind the mask, Joy's cheeks were just as rosy.

"Well?" Joy asked. "What do you think?"

Nova blinked slowly. "Joy, you look…"

"Your hair looks like a Shinx's tail when it's about to shit," Bebe quickly cut in. Rhys the Luxio snorted as if he, too, were offended by Joy's hair.

Nova scowled at both the girl and her Luxio. "Bebe! Rhys!"

"It's true! And don't get me started on the mask!'

"It's a Happiny mask," Joy pointed out quietly. "It's the one mother used to wear."

A thick silence captured them all. And, finally, Nova took a step forward and touched the mask on Joy's face.

"Joy," the gladiator said. "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you, Lady November."

"Except for the hair," Bebe chimed in. "That _does _need work."

Joy rolled her eyes. "First, though, we work on Nova."

For the rest of the afternoon, the three girls swore and spat and laughed as they tried to force Nova into a gown, as they tried to put some kohl around her eyes.

Of course, dear readers and writers, it went _exactly _as you probably imagine it would.

"You're gonna poke me eye, Joy!"

"Well, maybe, dear Nova, if you stopped blinking, I wouldn't poke your eye!"

"I'm blinking _because _you're poking my eye, arsehole!"

"_Joy_, Nova swore!"

"I know she swore, Bebe. I'm right next to you. Now, shut the fuck up, Nova."

"_Nova_, Joy swore!"

And so on.

It felt strangely exposing for Nova to drop her sword, shield, and armour (which Leila the Budew eyed with delight, though her gladiator told her her _not _to touch it). Instead, with nothing but a sleeveless dress sliding down her arms and a chiffon skirt dancing around her legs, Nova couldn't help but frown.

"I look like a wedding cake. A black and blue wedding cake."

"A _delicious_ black and blue wedding cake," Bebe added.

Nova snorted and felt for her hair, which – for the first time in her life – was tied in a knot on her head. "And how many pins did you put in my hair? It feels like a bloody nest. Bailey could lay eggs in it."

"Forget the hair," Joy said. "Your tattoo… It shows with that dress on. I bought a cloak to wear with my dress, but perhaps you should…"

The gladiator turned to the healer, who was playing with the velvet of her cloak. She had seen Joy buy that cloak – she had seen the healer's eyes light up at the sight of it. For the healer to give it up so willingly to cover the tattoo-

"You wear it," Nova quickly said, shrugging. "It's just a name on me back. It doesn't matter."

"Are you sure, Nova?"

"I'm sure." The gladiator turned to Bebe and winked. "Now, don't we need to fix up Joy's hair?"

Bebe already had pins sticking out of her fingernails.

"Aye! I was thinking that we part her hair and make it two loops at the back of her head, aye?"

* * *

The girls decided to wait until the sun was setting to leave the gardens and make their way for the ballroom. Meanwhile, Nova and Joy lay in the grass, watching as stars spread like crumbs along the greying canvas of dusk, waiting for Bebe to come back from her stroll of the gardens.

"Thank you," Joy said. "You know, for looking after Bebe for me."

Nova waved her hand. "It was nothing. Thank _you _for helping me with, well, everything."

"Well, I mean, what else are friends for?"

"Friends? We're friends now, are we?"

Joy scoffed. "Friend, companion, ally, _amie_, whatever."

"_Amie_?"

"It's Kalosian for friend. You know, like amity."

"Amity. I like it."

They lay there in a patient, warm silence, their masks burning gold in the sunset. Then, Joy rolled on her side and faced Nova.

"I was thinking…" the healer started. "The healing has been going well. Very well. And maybe, if more people start to trust me, well… I was thinking of working in the Hearthome inns for a while. Then, I can save up and buy a carriage, and maybe travel around Sinnoh and do some healing. That is, of course, if the Hearthome inns will take me."

Nova squeezed her hand. "Of course they'll take you. They would be idiots to let go of such a pretty face. And a hard worker, too."

"Thanks, Nova. It's just that, you know, I need someone to look after Bebe and…"

"I'll look after her. It would be an _honour _to look after her."

In that second, Bebe darted out of the brambles, grinning like a madwoman.

"I found it!" she cried out. "It's perfect!"

Nova sat up and narrowed her eyes. "What?"

The small girl ignored her. Instead, she knelt by the gladiator's side and slid a pink flower behind her ear.

"A Gracidea," Bebe said. "They express gratitude. It looks good on you, Nova."

And, as Nova let the small girl hug her, she couldn't help but feel her stomach knot.

She had made a promise with herself to look after her mother. But, surely, she couldn't drag poor Bebe to Twinleaf, could she? What would Joy say? How would Bebe like it?

And yet, she wouldn't be allowed to take her mother out of Twinleaf. If knights found her…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of cracking. Soft, gentle crackling. Coming from the pink egg that sat near Owl the Shellos.

"The egg!" Bebe cried out.

The three girls darted for the egg, watching as light poured out from between the cracks, gasping as it chipped away into a small, pink Pokémon that looked identical to Joy's mask.

"A Happiny," Joy whispered. "A Happiny. Oh, it's…"

"It's yours," Nova cut in. "This Happiny belongs to you now, Joy. My gift to you."

Joy's eyes went wide. "Nova, I can't…"

"I insist. Please."

"Take her, Joy," Bebe said. "And name her Aly. After our mother."

Nova knew Joy was crying behind her mask as she reached out and cradled the Happiny. She knew that _Bebe _was crying behind her mask. She couldn't imagine what it would be like losing both parents so young, being forced to work from inn to inn, being forced to give up an estate that should have belonged to them.

"It's a good thing all our Pokémon are small," Joy quietly pointed out. "Only small Pokémon would be able to hide in these gardens if knights were to come in while we're at the ball."

Nova nodded and turned towards her Pokémon – all twelve of them that were with her. "You heard that, aye? You have to behave and hide if a knight comes. Tric is in charge of all of you."

And though she saw a bunch of them scowl at the Monferno, who grinned wickedly, Nova turned to her two _amis_, fixed the Gracidiea in her hair,and smiled.

"Come on, lasses. We have a Spring Dance to crash."

* * *

The only Pokémon Nova _did _take with her was Bailey the Staravia. After all, she figured that if her hair _did _look like a nest, she may as well put it to good use.

If Nova thought the rest of Hearthome manors had been extravagant, she instantly thought otherwise once she caught sight of the Hearthome Palace. Instead of peaks in the roof, it had golden, dome-shaped towers, open porches held up with marble pillars, and rather than doors, there were gaping arches all throughout the palace. The walls were painted with blue swirls, their marble sheets shining orange and red in the sunset, and through the arches, Nova could see even more spiralling staircases.

_What was with rich folk and those swirling staircases, anyways? _

If Nova hadn't had her arms linked in Joy and Bebe's own arms, she wouldn't have made it to the arch without losing them. She kept seeing mask after mask after mask, big fluttering gowns, kohl and lipstick, clip-clopping shoes, shining jewels. It was so much – _too much – _for her steel blue eyes to take in.

Once they finally made it to the entrance, a knight took one glance at them and sighed.

"Name and estate?"

"Bebe, from Floaroma," the small girl answered. "This is my sister, Joy, also from Floaroma. And this is-"

"Wait," Joy cut in, clutching Happiny tightly to her chest. "Why do you want to know our names? Spring Dance is open for everyone, is it not?"

The knight shrugged. "Not this year. Lady Fantina has forbade a gladiator by the name of November. Ya know, the one sponsored by Duke Rowan. The Chimchar thief."

"Why?"

"Dunno."

Nova felt her heart deflate, felt her shoulders sag.

And, somewhere inside her, she felt a fire burn.

By Arceus, why would Lady Fantina have something against _her_? She hadn't met the woman, nor had she even stepped a single bloody foot in Hearthome until that day.

Why? _Why? _

"Say, will there be cake in there?" Bebe suddenly asked the knight. "I love cake. My favourite cakes are black and blue cakes, especially ones with some extra red icing on it – you know, so we don't see the crumbs falling off. And, oh, I also love…"

As Bebe rattled away, boring the knight into misery, Joy quickly sidled up beside Nova.

"You must be cold," Joy whispered into her ear.

Nova snorted. "Nay, I'm fine. I'm bloody-"

"I said, you _must _be cold."

Then, the healer undid her red cloak and slid it over Nova's shoulders. Hiding the tattoo. Winking at the gladiator.

"… and don't get me started on adding _Sitrus _berries onto chocolate cake," Bebe was saying. "Disgusting! Almost as bad as sunrises, if you ask me."

"Bebe," Joy finally said. "Leave the knight be. We have a dance to attend."

They moved forwards, and Nova tightened her grip on the cloak around her, desperately hoping that the knight wouldn't have noticed the panic in her eyes, desperately hoping that he wouldn't stop to-

The knight grabbed her elbow. Nova nearly swore.

"I don't believe I got your name," the knight said. "I'm from around Floaroma, and I don't think I've seen you around."

Bailey ruffled his feathers on Nova's head, and for a moment, Nova was glad she hadn't brought Tric – that _certainly _would have given her away.

The gladiator raised her gaze to the knight and smiled coolly.

"Lady Dawn," Nova answered. "Of Snowpoint."

"Ah, Snowpoint. Hear it's cold over there?"

_As cold as your mother's arse, you bloody- _

"Very cold," Joy quickly said. "Now, come on, Lady Dawn. I must introduce you Lady Fantina. She's been _dying _to meet you."

Sure enough, the knight let them pass.

* * *

The first thing Nova saw upon entering was the dancing – men and women whisking each other across the floor, ribbons and silk weaving in time to the harmonica's music. There were grins lost behind masks, low mumbles and laughing hidden beneath the skipping violins, loving gazes swept away in the twirls and leaps of the dance.

Within seconds, Joy and Happiny were at the buffet, the latter crying while the healer tried to feed her some water. There were a few people Nova knew would be there because she had overheard them talking about it – some of the men that had worked in Eterna's stables, some of the ladies who had sold her the dresses, and even some of the gladiators she had seen along the way. And yet, she couldn't recognise a single person behind their masks.

Only one person recognised her, though.

"Bebe? _November_?" a man with a Cranidos mask was asking, threading his way through the crowd to greet them. "Is that you?"

Nova glanced at the man – his burgundy hair, his dark eyes – and frowned as she took the drink from his hand. "And you are?"

"Legionary Roark. Arceus, you look so different, Novem-"

"Quiet!" Bebe hissed. "She's not supposed to be here."

"I know. My aunt made it no secret."

Nova took a sip at the ale, then another, tasting the bitter honey on her tongue and hating but _loving _it. Then, once her glass was drained, she glanced up at the legionary. "Lady Fantina is your aunt? Do you know why she hates me?"

Roark smiled sympathetically and poured her another glass. As if that was answer enough.

"Can I have some, too?" Bebe asked.

Nova shook her head. "Joy said no."

"And when did you start listening to Joy?"

"Do not despair, Bebe," Roark said. "I can take you to the stand with the apple juice."

"How old do you think I am? Four?"

As the two bickered, Nova tipped the rest of the ale into her mouth. She couldn't feel anything, yet – hell, she wasn't sure whether she was _supposed _to feel anything. None of the royals ever dumped their ale in Twinleaf. It was a first time for her.

She drifted away from Bebe and Roark, moving towards the table, itching for another glass to quell the burning near the back of her throat.

There were so many colours. So many dancers. So many masks.

It was exhilarating. It was dizzying. Nova wanted another drink.

She was halfway through draining her third glass when she heard someone mumble something behind her. Something about Song Sisters, about Gardenia, about…

Nova slammed her drink down onto the table a little too hard. Or maybe it was a little too soft. There were so many colours. So many dancers. So many, many, many, many _masks_-

"It's a shame Gardenia couldn't be here," the voice was saying. "She was far more fun to gossip with than you."

"She died, Maylene. Have some sympathy."

"I rest my case. She was a _lot _more fun than you."

Nova peered over her shoulder to glance at the two ladies – one with the Meditite mask, one with the Snover mask. One with short, pink hair; one with braided, black hair. One couldn't have been much older than Bebe, and the other one seemed about Nova's age – tall, sharp eyes, bored by the dancing.

And it was the older one that had caught Nova staring at them.

"Who might you be?" she asked, flicking her dark braids aside.

Nova offered a hand. "Dawn of Snowpoint."

The younger one – Maylene, was it? – grinned and shook her hand. The older one, though, snorted.

"Bullshit," she said. "I'm Candice. Snowpoint Legionary. I know not of you, Lady _Dawn_."

_Oh, shit, shit, shit- _

Had Nova not been a bit dizzy from the drinks, she may have had the sense to run – or maybe even ask Bailey to jump off her hair and attack. Instead, though, Nova just stared at the two girls.

"Never fear," Maylene was saying. "We won't tell a soul. But, I must ask, why would you…"

She froze as Candice whispered something in her ear. Then, her eyes lit up.

"November," she said. "You're November! The gladiator! Oh, Arceus, I've been meaning to meet you for so long. The slayer of Frazer!"

"The _tamer _of Frazer," Candice corrected. "She _tamed_. Not slayed."

Maylene ignored her. "Arceus. November. You're all that we legionaries have been talking about."

"That is _hardly _true," the Snowpoint legionary interrupted – and Nova could have sworn there was a hint of bitterness, or perhaps even jealousy, in the girl's voice as she added, "The rest of us have lives. Maylene, here, won't stop blabbering on about you."

Nova didn't know what to say. She just stared.

"Come," Maylene urged. "Gossip with us, November. Look at Spiral's dress! Isn't she gorgeous? You'd never guess she married a _pirate_."

Candice snickered. "I believe her father is still not pleased about that…"

Finally, as the girls continued to look from dress to dress, Nova felt her head clear just that little bit.

She was not busted. Not yet.

"Wait," she quickly said. "So, who is Lady Fantina?"

"That one there," Maylene said, raising a hand to point. "The one chatting up Sir Riley."

Sure enough, there was Lady Fantina – the only woman in the room who was not masked, and the only woman who Nova thought truly looked _ridiculous_. Her hair was tied in four knots on her head, her purple dress shone with more jewels that the diamonds across her neck, and her eyes were fixed on a young man who couldn't seem to care less about her.

Nova squinted as she stared down the Knight on High. His face was almost completely covered by a Riolu mask – save his eyes, of course – and, unlike every other man in the room, he was not in a suit. He was in a dark cloak – one that was ridden over his head, hiding his hair – with dark gloves that covered every inch of his skin.

"Sir Riley?" Nova whispered to Maylene. "Isn't he too young for Lady Fantina?"

Maylene laughed. "That didn't stop her before. Remember, dear Candice?"

"Maylene, we can't…" Candice warned.

Nova tilted her head curiously. "What did Lady Fantina do?"

"Legionary's Oath," Candice shot back. "We can't speak of it. We will be murdered if we do. And I don't fancy being slaughtered here."

"She shouldn't be a legionary with what she did," Maylene muttered. Then, she smiled brightly at Nova, adding, "Anyways, it's not like Sir Riley is one to be put off by older women. Isn't Cynthia bloody, what, seven years older than him?"

"And what does Cynthia have to do with anything?" Nova asked.

Maylene turned to gape at the gladiator. "You didn't know? Sir Riley and Cynthia are engaged."

"They are?"

"Yeah. I didn't know about it until recently, too. At Eterna – after Gardenia became a Song Sister – he announced their engagement in Cynthia's absence. He showed them the ring and all and, because of that, he could change the legionary arrangement. Now, Gardenia _and _Cheryl are the official legionaries."

Nova nodded slowly. "That's… good of him. And, I suppose that explains why he ain't dancin' with anyone. Why dance with any lady when you're married to the bloody queen, aye?"

Both Maylene and Candice laughed at that, raising their drinks in agreement. If Sir Riley heard them, he made no point of noticing. Nova almost pitied him – even behind his mask, his eyes seemed bored rigid as he glanced around the room. Like he was looking for someone, and yet, like he knew he would never find them. The face of a man – or, well, a lad – missing his queen.

"Nova- I mean, Dawn!"

The gladiator quickly spun around at the sound of Bebe's voice. There the small girl was, her eyes shining with excitement.

"I drank some ale!" she told the gladiator. "Except, Joy saw me, so now I'm hiding but Joy knows my dress-"

Nova cut her off by undoing her cloak. Then, she kneeled down and wrapped the velvet around Bebe's shoulders.

"Take this," Nova said. "Now, go and hide and take another sip from me."

"But, Nova… The cloak… Your tattoo…"

Nova was already one step ahead of her. With Bailey's help, she pulled out each pin in her hair, letting it fall down into a thick river of black behind her.

"Now no one will see it," the gladiator said, avoiding Candice and Maylene's sceptical glances. "Be good, Bebe."

"Aye, Lady Nov- I mean, Dawn!"

But, this time, when Nova glanced up, she found Sir Riley staring right at her.

And, by Arceus, was he no longer looking bored.

* * *

It only took a few more minutes for Sir Riley to weave his way through the dancers, his gaze locked on Nova. The gladiator had even tried moving towards the barrels of ale, hoping that he may have been after Maylene or Candice.

Alas, he followed her there. He even waited for her to drain another glass before speaking up.

"May I have a dance, young maiden?"

Nova almost jumped back at the sound of his voice.

Without a doubt, there was something so damned _familiar _about it – something that made her head swirl and roil and search for where she had heard it before. Even his eyes, a beautiful blue, seemed so, so familiar, and yet, she couldn't quite place it, couldn't quite remember where she had seen them before.

It must have been the ale playing drinks on her mind. She was sure of it. If she had met Sir Riley in her life before, she would have _known_.

Besides, why would the Knight on High ever have visited _Twinleaf_?

It was the ale. It must have been the ale.

There was a terribly awkward silence as Nova realised that she still hadn't answered his question. That he was still holding his gloved hand out to her.

"You're asking _me_?" she finally said.

Sir Riley cocked his head to the side. "Aye. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you know, you're bloody _engaged_ and all…"

The Knight on High straightened up suddenly. "You know about that? How?"

"Maylene… Candice… I… I can't dance."

_Oh, by Arceus, why must I sound like an absolute muttonhead? _

Sir Riley stared at her for a long while after that. At the Staravia on her head. At the long hair splayed over her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Nova finally asked. "Can't handle rejection, Sir Riley?"

"No, I…"

Before he could finish, Lady Fantina's voice rung across the ballroom, a drawl that was long and teasing enough to match the cellos behind her.

"Gladiators, legionaries, townsfolk, and all," she called out. "Thank you for coming to my Spring Dance. This also marks the start of my legionary trial, of course. Starting tomorrow, gladiators across Sinnoh may challenge me to a spar."

Even in her dazed state, Nova made a note to tell that to Barry and Lucas when they came. They would want to know that – Barry would be ready to kick Fantina's arse for her by tomorrow.

Hell, _she _could kick Fantina's arse tomorrow. For banning her from the bloody Spring Dance.

"But, before you challenge me, gladiators," Fantina added, "I must tell you of another matter regarding my legionary trial. You see, if you tell me a secret – a secret about yourself, a secret about a legionary, a secret about _me _that is so juicy that I would _die _for it – they automatically earn a legionary crystal from me. No sparring needed."

Nova saw Sir Riley roll his eyes and laughed. "Court gossip?"

"Apparently there is never enough of it," he muttered back. "Once, when I was small, I was sure that she was hiding extra pairs of ears in those knots on her head. Or maybe eyes. Something to spy on everyone."

The thought of Lady Fantina's hair turning into an extra set of eyes and ears was more than enough to send Nova over the edge. She dropped her glass on the table and really, _really _laughed – slapping her hand against the barrel, clutching at her stomach as she bent over. Even Sir Riley chuckled as he steadied her onto her two feet.

"So, gladiators, I beseech you," Lady Fantina was saying. "Look into places you've never thought to look. Give me your most mouth-watering secret. And you will be awarded famously for it."

Then, the music was going again, and Fantina was back to twirling around with young men who seemed far too young for her.

"What's your name?" Sir Riley asked suddenly.

"Lady Dawn. Of Snowpoint."

"Of _Snowpoint_," Riley repeated, incredulous. "And you don't know how to dance?"

Nova eyed him sceptically. "Aye?"

"Why, it's common knowledge that all lasses from Snowpoint are taught to dance from the second they're born. Every single one of them. So, unless you're lying…"

_Oh, for Arceus's sake. _

"I _do _know how to dance," Nova lied. "My da taught me when I was a wee babe. I was just… shy."

"Then show me, Lady Dawn."

And so, with Nova asking Bailey to stay near the ale, the pair danced.

Sir Riley danced like water; moving in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion, painting a picture with his every step and twirl and breath. Within a few steps, as he realised that Nova could barely make it a few seconds without treading on his toes, he ended up leading the dance entirely – holding her up so she was floating and twisting weightlessly across the room, poised and balanced on his feet like she was just silk in his hands.

Everyone stared at them. Nova could both see and feel it. She saw Joy and Happiny, shaking their heads in disbelief. She saw Bebe and Roark, standing dangerously close to a barrel of ale, exchanging knowing looks. She saw Maylene and Candice, their eyes wide with shock.

And when she eyed Sir Riley, Nova couldn't help but look away as that wave of familiarity came rushing back to her.

Where had she seen him? _Where_?

Nova swore as the music suddenly slowed, as her elbow moved too quickly and poked at Sir Riley's stomach.

"Why are you dancing with me?" she asked him.

"Because you're beautiful."

"Be careful. Your betrothed might hear. You might get in trouble."

Sir Riley snorted. "I'm already in plenty of trouble, Lady Dawn."

"Why?"

"Let's see… I sponsored a gladiator even though I'm betrothed to the queen, I changed laws without her permission, I didn't offer her the first dance, part of me wants to kiss you…"

Nova stumbled back again. Not just because she was shit at dancing.

"You want to _kiss _me?" she repeated. "Bloody hell, you just _met _me. I just met you. I don't think that's how kissing works."

"Kissing can work however the kisser wants, does it not?"

"No, yes, I don't…" Nova swore again as she stepped on his foot. "Fuck. Shit. Did that hurt?"

Sir Riley stepped back and shook his head, his eyes practically _grinning_. "You're not from Snowpoint, are you, Lady Dawn?"

"I _can _dance! I told you, me da- shit, _my _da taught me when I was-"

"If you were from Snowpoint, you would have known that everything I said _about _Snowpoint was bullshit. Lasses from Snowpoint aren't taught to dance. Legionary Candice hates dancing."

"Oh, fuck this…"

Sir Riley held her hand and drew her close. Then, ever so slowly, his hands traced up her arms and held her by the face.

"I _knew_ it was you," he whispered. "_November_…"

Then, his hand was on her mask. Prying it away. Showing her face. The cut on her lip. The bruise on her head. The red of her cheeks.

"It's _her_! November!" a voice called out – a man's voice. Another one that was familiar. So damned familiar. But, dammit, the ale clouded her head, and Sir Riley's eyes were wide, and there were knights already clanking their way into the hall-

"The _pest_!" Fantina was crying out. "Get her out of here! Knights!"

Nova tried to talk to Sir Riley, tried to reach for his hand, for her mask. But someone was already dragging him away, and the dresses and silk and jewels were a riot around her as knights came up to her, as Bailey squawked and flew for her head.

And, in that second, she decided one thing. Fuck Queen Cynthia _and_ fuck Lady Fantina.

"Bailey," Nova hissed. "_Attack_."

Nova and her Staravia barrelled for the two nearest knights, and though one held his hand to stop her, Bailey was too quick – his beak flashed, in and out, jabbing his eye. He gasped and fell, tumbling to the ground as another knight cried out in warning and raised his sword.

Bailey twisted sideways, squawking as only a single feather fell to the floor. Then, the Staravia was upon one of the knight's Machop – its wing glowing and whistling as it slashed at the fighting-type.

"Pardon me," Nova said as she smashed some pretty young thing aside and tore through the hall. With a few more slashes, Bailey had knocked out another Machop _and _a Graveler, and the pair were punching their way towards the arch. As Bailey used his talons to swipe at another knight's face, Nova shoved a barrel of ale with all her might, crying out in relief as it tumbled off the table and into the knight behind her. Somewhere along the way, she had lost her shoes, and as she tripped over her skirt, she scowled and ripped herself a long slit in the front.

"The girl in black and blue!" Fantina was crying out again. "Get her! I want her out of Hearthome, you hear me? The filthy _pest_!"

Nova knew there was no way out, then. Knights had assembled by the arch – dozens of them – blocking her path. Swords in hand. Each with a Pokémon by their side – Gravelers, Machokes, Sudowoodos, and more.

Instead, the gladiator turned on her heel and spat at Lady Fantina.

"What did I ever do to _you_?" she demanded. "I've never _met _you, Lady bloody Fantina."

Lady Fantina met her gaze with the same fury, the same hysteria. "You ruined _everything_, you _bitch_."

"Like _what_?"

"Like-"

"Both of you, _stop_."

It was Sir Riley. Still in his cloak and mask. Still looking bored and amused as he stared at the only two ladies in the room who were unmasked.

"As future king of Sinnoh, I hereby declare that November of Twinleaf is granted permission to be at the Spring Dance."

In that second, November almost wished she _had _kissed the damned knight when he had mentioned it.

Lady Fantina, though, looked like she was ready to rip him apart with her nails.

"Why, Sir Riley?" she demanded. "You know nothing of what she has done-"

The knight cut her off with a raise of his hand. "Because I have brought a special guest. Lucario? Please bring Lady Vernia."

And Nova was _certain _that she wanted to kiss Sir Riley then and there.

For, within seconds, a Lucario strolled through the arch and into the hall. And, sitting in the little wagon that the Lucario was wheeling into the room, was a woman with long, dark hair, a silken beige dress, and a worn-down smile that Nova would have recognised anywhere.

Lady Vernia.

Her _mother_.

* * *

**This was… long. And I'm sure it was overwhelming for you, too. Which is a good thing. I need you to be overwhelmed. Too many clues… Too many secrets… **

**For those who were wondering, Sir Riley is based off Sir Aaron from the movie "Lucario and the Mystery of Mew", who also inspired the in-game Riley – who is that trainer you tag-team with in Canalave. If you want to know what I imagine he looks like behind the mask, look up 'Sir Aaron' and you'll see. Isn't he a cutie? I think he might be one of my first 2D crushes. Anyone else? No? Just me...? Damn. **

**Also, thank you to all those people who have followed/favourited my story! I've tried to message all of you to shower you with my love and gratitude, but alas, a few of you have disabled PMs. So, hear it from me here: I love you! Thank you! **


	21. Chapter XX

**Chapter XX**

At the sight of Lady Vernia, Lady Fantina had yanked a sword out of a knight's hand and had tried to stab the dancer herself. However, with a growl, Riley's Lucario was there, his paws pulsing blue as he aimed them towards the legionary. Only seconds later, Bailey was there, too, pulling at Fantina's hair with his beak.

After that, Lady Fantina had stormed out of her own dance. Nothing much had changed – Joy was still trying to baby the Happiny while chasing Bebe, who was hiding beneath her cloak as she tried to sneak another glass of ale; Sir Riley finally allowed other ladies to whisk him away into a dance; Maylene and Candice insisting on Nova gossiping with them for a few minutes before the gladiator snuck away to find her mother.

Lady Vernia was still in her little wagon, Sir Riley's Lucario right beside her. They were atop the stairs, and Nova wasn't sure whether her mother was staring down at the dancing, or the stairs that twisted in a perfect spiral beneath her.

Nova, herself, raced up the sweeping staircase, Bailey resting atop her head, her bare feet cold from the tiles.

It felt like it had been years since she had seen mother. Years since she had learnt the truth about her mother, about the accident, about the affair.

"I can't believe you're here," were the first words Nova breathed out upon reaching her. It was no easy task hugging her mother – not while the poor woman was stuck in a wagon – but Nova had no problem reaching down to squeeze Vernia, to plant kisses all over her mother's head.

"I can't believe _you're _here," Vernia whispered back, her fingers already reaching out to fix up her daughter's wild tangle of hair. "With two legionary crystals, too. When Barry first came to Twinleaf to tell me… By Arceus, I thought I would never see you again."

Nova grinned. "But here we are."

"Here we are."

The gladiator had to admit it – even though her mother was squished in a wagon, she looked _gorgeous. _She wore that same beige dress that Nova had seen in the painting – soft satin, sweeping skirts, thin folds.

For the first time in her life, Nova understood why her mother, of all people, had been beautiful enough to make some rich and royal bastard want her.

"You look beautiful, Nova," her mother was saying. "You look just like…"

"Let me guess. My father?"

Vernia snorted. "Arceus, no. You look nothing like that bastard. I was going to say you look like me, back when I was still dancing."

"I have nicer cheeks."

"Aye, but I have better breath."

"It's part of the Twinleaf buffet, aye?"

"Of course. Only stale bread crusts could keep a lady's lips tasting as fresh as a prince's kiss."

They both laughed at that, drawing a few gazes from downstairs. As Nova glanced down, she caught sight of Sir Riley twirling some lucky woman around. Except, even as the music sped up and the woman dragged him deeper into the dance, the Knight on High kept his gaze locked on Nova, his face unreadable behind the mask.

"He fancies you, you know," Vernia said suddenly, arching her brow.

Nova waved away her mother's sly grin. "I just met him tonight."

"Oh? I thought, for sure, it was more serious than that."

"He's engaged to Queen Cynthia, Mother."

"I know."

"Though, he _did _say he wanted to kiss me…"

This time, Vernia choked. "By the shadows, he asked _you _of all people? _You_?"

"Thanks, Mother, I _really _appreciate your confidence in me."

"You don't fancy him, too, do you?"

The question caught Nova by surprise.

She hadn't thought of it at all. Hell, she had only really _just _met him. And though there was something about him seemed so bloody familiar, so bloody _comforting, _she couldn't quite work it out. She couldn't quite work _him _out.

"I dunno," she told her mother. "I think I have to get to know him more."

"No. Don't."

"Nay?"

Vernia shook her head. "Don't get to know him more. Don't make the same mistake I made."

_The same mistake… _

Nova glanced up at her mother and frowned.

"Who is my father?"

"Nova, I made an oath not to tell…"

The gladiator slammed her hands hard against the staircase railings – hard enough that both the Lucario beside her and the Staravia on her head flinched. "To hell with an oath! Look what he did to us! Look what he did to _you_."

"I know."

"Do you still love him?"

"No," Vernia answered quickly. "But I love _you_. And I love you enough to want to keep you away from him."

Nova rolled her eyes. "Just tell me a name. I promise I won't bite him."

"I know you won't bite him. I know you too well. Why would you bite him when you now own a sword, my dear?"

"_Please_."

"_No_." Vernia reached out and clasped her daughter's face. "Listen to me, November. It doesn't matter who he was or what he did-"

"He tried to _kill _you. How does that not matter?"

Vernia only closed her eyes. "No. He tried to kill _you_. He pushed me down the stairs so that _you _would die – so that no one would know of our affair."

There were many, many things Nova hated. She hated the word crip, she hated Prince Volkner, she hated the Galactic Healers.

But, above all, she hated seeing her mother cry.

And now, watching as tears slipped down Vernia's cheeks, it took all the restraint the gladiator had to fight back the knots itching at the back of her own throat.

"But, Nova, you _didn't _die," Vernia finally said. "You were my survivor. My miracle child. You _are _my miracle child. Always remember that, alright?"

Nova didn't have to heart to say that, no, she didn't _feel _like a miracle child. She felt like a bastard babe. One that was banned from dances, one that stole from dukes, one that left a trail of chaos behind her.

But, instead, she just nodded.

"And Barry? What about his father?"

Vernia took a sharp breath. "Actually, I need to talk to you about that. About Barry."

"What?"

"His mother…"

Nova's eyes went wide. "Is she alright? Is she dead? Is that why you're here?"

"Arceus, November, _no_," Vernia answered. "She's fine. It's just that she's not actually his _real _mother."

"_What_?"

"She was a parlour maid – _my _parlour maid. She'd dress me up, do my hair, put on my kohl. And, when I had the accident, she decided to come with me and look after me. She was never – and has never been – pregnant."

Nova stared and stared and stared.

_But Barry…_

"We woke up one morning," Vernia continued, "and found a wee little babe by the door. He must have been a month old. Maybe two. And he couldn't see a damned thing. I still hadn't birthed you – hell, I wasn't sure that you were going to come out _alive _– so we decided to take him as our own. He was a much better baby than you. He laughed whenever you cried."

Nova ignored her mother's grin. Instead, she shook her head, and nothing could stop the fire in her words as she said, "Do you think someone left him there because he was _blind_?"

"Aye. We still don't know who his parents are. All we have left of them is this scarf."

Her mother reached down beneath her skirt and pulled out a scarf – all frayed and plaid and pink. Smelling of sand. Smelling of _Barry_.

"I think you should give it to him," Vernia said. "He deserves to know."

Nova took the scarf and held it to her heart. "Aye, I-"

She was cut off as a gloved hand curled around her elbow.

"Lady Vernia?" Sir Riley asked. "May I steal November for a few minutes?"

Nova almost dropped the scarf at that. She hadn't heard him slide up the stairs, nor had she heard his soft breaths until he had found his place by her side.

And that voice, muffled by the mask…

Where had she heard it before? _Where_?

Lady Vernia smiled sweetly – so sweetly that Nova just _knew _it was fake.

"Of course," her mother said. "But, before you do, I would like to tell my daughter one thing."

Sir Riley nodded. "Absolutely. Shall I leave you two, or…"

"No. you can hear it, too," Vernia said coolly. Then, she turned to her daughter and looked her hard in the eyes. "November, just remember: your father promised me that he would leave his wife just for me. And, instead, he pushed me down the stairs. Do you understand?"

It was a message. A warning.

_Trust no one._

No matter how handsome everyone claimed he was behind the mask.

"Aye," Nova said. "I understand."

Vernia reached out and kissed her daughter on the hand. "Good. Now, go dance with the winds."

And, as Nova followed Sir Riley down the stairs, she could have _sworn _there was a flicker of guilt in the Knight on High's eyes.

* * *

"Is this necessary, Sir Riley?"

"Aye. I want this to be a surprise."

"What surprise could be so great that you must _blind _me?"

"This one."

"Arsehole."

Truth be told, Nova knew instantly that she probably _shouldn't _have called the future King of Sinnoh an arsehole. But she couldn't help it – after all, he had dragged her _outside _the Hearthome Palace, into one of the private courtyards, where the cold wind tugged at her dress and whipped her hair all over her face.

If that wasn't bad enough, he had also tied Barry's pink scarf around her eyes. So that she couldn't see.

And, unlike Barry's Piplup, Bailey the Staravia wasn't helpful at all when it came to helping her move around the courtyard. It had only been a few minutes, and Nova had twigs sticking out of her dress from running into about six trees.

Meanwhile, Sir Riley was working away at some painting. Nova could only hear slight scratching sounds as he worked, slight sticky sounds of water against canvas.

With a sigh, Nova reached up and felt for Bailey.

"So," she said to the knight. "Does yer Lucario have a name?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Sir Riley paused for a second. Then, he said, "It's not honourable to do so, according to the knights that raised me. It makes us become too close to our Pokémon, and we aren't allowed to do that. Just in case."

"In case what?"

"In case some pretty little gladiator comes along and nearly kills a bunch of knights and their Pokémon after sneaking into a ball. You've been a load of trouble, you know, November. All my knights hate you."

Nova couldn't help but feel her heart swell with pride. "Apologies, Knight on High. But, surely, there is one knight that doesn't hate me. Lucas?"

"Lucas. Aye. He likes you. A lot." Sir Riley snorted. "It's too bad he's a shithead."

Had the gladiator not been blindfolded, she may have considered slapping the future king there and then. Instead, though, she took a step towards where she _thought _he was, heard a squawk from Bailey, turned her head, and walked straight into another tree.

So, with as much dignity as she had left, Nova hissed, "Don't call him that."

"What?"

"He's my friend, you hear? He's done so much for me and Barry. Call him a shithead again and I'll-"

Sir Riley cut her off with a click of his tongue. "Apologies. I didn't mean to upset you."

The scratching was back as the knight continued to move his hands along the canvas. As his fingers did their own little waltz, as paint slipped over the white.

"Anyways," Nova finally said. "If_ you're_ not going to name your Lucario, I am."

"Alright. Go on."

Nova hadn't expected him to give in so quickly. So, instead, with her head reeling, she quickly said the first name – if it even was a name – that came to her head.

"Captain Snuggles."

Even with the pink scarf wrapped around her eyes, Nova knew Sir Riley's eyes were upon her as he slowly repeated, "Captain Snuggles."

"Aye. Captain Snuggles."

"You're naming my kick-arse Pokémon that has maimed and killed, that has brought my enemies to their knees and heard the pitiful cries of their lovers… Captain Snuggles?"

"Aye. You like it?"

"You're ridiculous."

Nova scoffed. "Oh, _I'm _the ridiculous one? You're the one who has a poor lass blinded in the cold while you, what, _paint_? What are you painting, anyways?"

"A picture."

"You're a mad genius. I would never have guessed."

Sir Riley snorted. "Relax, will you? I'm just painting Sinnoh. My _dream _Sinnoh. The Sinnoh I started thinking of when I first heard of your mother's story."

"Your dream Sinnoh?"

"One where people don't have to dig through waste to feed themselves. One where women and men aren't cast away for accidents or for the way they're born. One where young girls don't have to steal to protect the ones they love."

Nova thought about that for a long time.

If that were the case, all the hell she had seen in the past years – all the sand she had eaten, all the screaming and crying she had seen – it would never have happened. All the blood. All the pain. Gone.

And, finally, she smiled.

"You'll make a good king, then," she said softly.

She heard the knight take a few long strides towards her. Then, with the briefest of kisses on her brow, he was behind her, pulling off the scarf and draping it around her shoulders.

The first thing Nova saw was the painting.

It was a painting of a baby held up against a woman's heart – so small, with little toes peeking from beneath a blanket, their hair like a crazy mass of black curls. There was a man right behind the woman, smiling fondly at the baby, and, by _Arceus_, they were in a _house _– one with a bed, with windows, with coloured blankets and even a small cot for the baby.

Nova didn't know why the picture hurt her so much. She didn't know why it made her heart feel so tight.

"Sir Riley," she breathed out. "It's…"

She never finished. For, when she turned to face him, she realised that he was no longer there.

* * *

When Nova slipped back into the palace, she only had time to give her mother one final kiss before Riley's Lucario started wheeling her off – back for Twinleaf, the painting tucked in her mother's arms. Sir Riley was already there, saying farewells to the legionaries, his gaze _always _trailing back to Nova – though he never came back to ask about the painting, about their conversation.

Within minutes, the room that had been filled with gowns and ribbons and colour was almost empty. Joy and Happiny had apparently gone back to the gardens – and though Nova hadn't seen her, she suspected Bebe had trailed behind them – Sir Riley was rushing off to his next post, and the legionaries were starting to disperse.

Or, at least, the legionaries that had come in the _first _place.

As she farewelled Maylene and Candice, Nova learnt a bit more about the legionaries that hadn't come. Legionary Byron, Fantina's brother, had a feud with his sister years ago and no longer attended Spring Dances. Prince Volker, too, had a quarrel with Fantina, earning himself a permanent ban – though Maylene and Candice both insisted that he _wasn't _banned. As for Legionary Wake? Fantina apparently couldn't stand the way he smelled. So, he was banned.

It seemed, then, that Fantina didn't just have a problem with Nova. She had a problem with _everyone_.

As Nova stepped out into the night, the wind like a breath of winter against her skin, the gladiator found herself staring at a Golbat. At _her _Golbat.

"Livia?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

Livia never got the chance to answer. Instead, Bailey squawked at her, Livia grinned and hissed back, and they were flying off. With a roll of her eyes, Nova followed after them, through the maze of scattered ribbons and spilt ale, past manor after manor until-

"Barry?"

There her friend was, his back against some wall, snoring away, his Piplup – no, _Prinplup _– snuggled in his arms.

Nova sat beside him and nudged at his arm, letting her Golbat and Staravia settle beside her. "Barry? Why're you sleepin' here?"

It took Barry a few minutes to wake up, to rub the drool from his lips. It only took him seconds after that, though, to recognise his best friend's voice.

"Inns are full," he finally said, yawning. "Besides, me back needed a good straightening up."

Nova sighed exasperatedly and leaned back beside him. "You missed the Spring Dance."

"And you didn't? I heard you were banned from it."

"Sir Riley unbanned me."

Now, Barry was _definitely _awake. His Prinplup scowled as he shoved her out of his lap and tried to grab to Nova's arm.

"You saw _the _Sir Riley?" he asked. "Lass, tell me _all _about it. How nice are his lips? How long is his nose?"

"I don't know. We were wearing masks."

"But did ye at least get a good feel of his chest?"

Nova smacked away his hand. "You're insufferable."

"Okay, but what about his…"

"_Barry_!"

The blind boy grinned. "I'm only tootin' at yer rump, lass."

Nova leaned her head against his shoulder and smiled.

She knew she couldn't talk about Sir Riley with Joy – the healer would probably slap her for dancing with a married lad. But Barry was different. Once, when they were younger, when she had told him that her mother had soiled the settee, Barry had only shrugged and asked if sand would soak it up.

"It was so strange," Nova finally admitted. "It was the first time meeting Sir Riley, and yet, it felt so… normal. Like I'd known him from somewhere before."

Barry frowned. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

Her friend's voice turned quiet as he leaned closer and said, "Nova. That day. Your thirteenth birthday. I know you say you don't remember but… did you actually forget _everything_ that happened?"

"I want to."

But it was too late. She was already seeing it.

The knights asking for her name. Her telling them her name. Them touching her. Barry yelling out to leave her alone. Them shoving Barry to the ground and kicking at him. Them turning back to her.

_Always for-_

But there was more, wasn't there?

They came back. They tried touching her. They slapped her when she bit them. And then-

_And then… _

One of them had been hit by a beam of blue. Then, there was a boy and a Riolu. And though the knights first laughed at the boy, their grins had quickly disappeared as the boy announced that one of his Pokémon was already on its way to grab the nearest legionary.

_Always for- _

And then the boy was holding her. Asking her if she was alright. There had been blood on her face – so much blood that Nova hadn't been able to see him without her eyes burning from it all.

"_Saviour of the Sands…" she had whispered into his ears. _

_He had laughed at that. It had been such a small sound. He had been such a small boy. So small, so brave- _

"_A bit too grand, don't you think? You can just call me Riley." _

And more knights had come – proper knights. They had tended to her. They had told her mother that she had an _accident _– some bullshit about running into wild Starly. Just so that the name of knights wasn't put to ruins.

Both she and Barry didn't talk about it. They didn't tell anyone about it.

Until now.

"Nova," Barry said. "I'm sure of it. It was Sir Riley who had saved us. Even though he was just a wee little boy…"

Nova took a long, shuddered breath. "Do you think he remembered me? I hadn't told him my name back then, and…"

"It was years ago, Nova. He wasn't even a knight back then. I doubt he remembers us. I mean, if _you_ didn't remember-"

"I didn't want to remember."

"I don't think he would, either."

They sat there in complete silence, saving for Barry's fingers thrumming against her hand, and all three Pokémon offering weak sounds of support. Finally, her best friend sighed.

"So, you fancy him?"

Nova shrugged. "He's engaged to Queen Cynthia."

"That's not an answer to me question."

And, again, the silence.

Nova couldn't believe it still. Was _that _where she had recognised him? Surely not. That had been five years ago, and she hadn't caught a proper glimpse of him with the blood in her eyes and the pain in her head. And yet…

"Poor Lucas," Barry finally said.

"Poor Lucas?"

Barry smiled softly. "Poor lad fancies you, you know."

"_Lucas_?" Nova snorted at that. "No way."

"Aye. It's always Nova this, Nova that, you know. He won't give me a break unless he's teachin' me how to use the bloody sword."

"Oh."

Barry reached out and squeezed her hand. "I trust you, though, Nova. I know you won't chase after some lad who is betrothed to the bloody queen. Not after our mothers…"

Suddenly, the scarf around Nova's shoulders felt too warm. Too heavy.

"About that, Barry…"

She pulled the scarf away from her own neck, instead coiling it around her friend's shoulders.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Barry," Nova started slowly, "I was talking to me mother. Your mother – the one in Twinleaf – is not actually yer real mother. She just found you at the door one mornin'. With this scarf."

She waited for his tears. For his anger. For his protests.

But there was none of that.

"Alright," he finally said.

Nova stared at him, bewildered. "Alright? _Alright_? You're not, ya know, upset?"

"I don't matter if I came from her guts or someone else's guts," Barry pointed out with a shrug. "She raised me as her son, and I'll still see her as me mother."

"You're a wise one, my dear Barry."

Barry cracked a grin and tugged at the scarf around him. "Besides, what colour is this scarf?"

"Guess."

"Er… Purple? The colour of, what was it? The sky?"

"Nay. The sky is blue. And the scarf is not purple."

"Green?"

Nova reached out and pinched him gently. "One guess a day, Barry."

"Oh, you're a bloody tease."

"Your mother thought so, too-"

"Hey! Don't talk rat about me mother!"

Soon, he was ripping off the scarf and using it to hit her on her head – or, at least, where he thought her head was. Nova was one step ahead of him, catching the scarf, tugging it out of his grasp, laughing as they fought for a proper hold over the damned thing and tried to hit one another-

That's when the scream came.

Pained. Desperate. Terrified.

And very, _very _familiar.

From there, readers and writers, masters and squires, friends and foes, everything went to absolute shits.

* * *

**This story has three arcs – or, well, three dances, I like to say. This first dance was a gentle waltz. We meet the characters, we take a few risky steps, but we never stray too far away from home. **

**The next arc is a tango. Passionate. Playful. Lots of room for improvisation. There will be a lot of movement – and some of these movements will be very fast, very abrupt, and may not always go the way it was supposed to go. This is the arc where most – if not all – secrets come out. **

**In other words, my lovelies, trust no one in this story. Even the best ones are full of shit. **


	22. Chapter XXI

**Chapter XXI **

Nova ran like a tempest.

The breeze felt like roaring waves as she darted through the night, her Golbat and Staravia soaring above her, Barry's footsteps growing distant as he and his Prinplup fell more and more behind. Still, she didn't wait for him; she just flung herself out of Hearthome, over sharp rocks and through trees, her hair whipping her face.

Nova, herself, had no idea how long she had been running. She had no idea _where _she was running.

All she knew was that her feet were leading her towards the voice. Towards the scream.

Because, by Arceus, the last time she had heard that scream-

It had been when she had thought Puck was dying. It had been before she had even properly met the girl who had screamed.

And that girl had been—

"Bebe," Nova called out. "_Bebe_!"

There the small girl lay, coughing, a hand to her mouth – a hand that, after another cough, shone red in the moonlight. Her mask abandoned beside her. Her Glameow still and unmoving beside her.

"Bebe?"

Nova fell beside the child, a hand pressed against her face, shaking her as she coughed up another mouthful of sticky, filthy, _bloody _red.

"Bebe!"

The gladiator leaned close and breathed in – smelling ale and smoke and… _and…_

Livia the Golbat screeched, and Nova understood.

_Poison. _

Nova's heart sank in her chest.

"No…" she breathed out. She lifted the child in her arms, cradled her in her chest. "_Bebe_…"

Bebe's eyes fluttered open then. She held the gladiator's hand, slick with blood, tears in her eyes. "Nova? It… It hurts…"

"Oh, no, Bebe…" was all Nova could gasp out. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry…"

Nova sobbed, then. Sobbed as she screamed for help. Sobbed as she yelled for anyone – anyone at all who would hear – and wiped the tears from Bebe's eyes. She swore at Arceus. She swore at the one or two men who passed by her and shook their heads in sympathy. She swore at herself.

For failing. For not looking out for her.

For letting her die.

_No, no, no, no… _

"Am I going to die, Nova?"

Bebe's teeth were slick with red as she spoke. Nova squeezed her hand.

"You are not going to die," she said. "You hear me, Bebe? You're going to be _fine_."

"I'm scared, Nova."

"You're going to be _fine_. I'm going to carry you to Hearthome, and we'll get to Joy, and she'll have _something-_"

Bebe squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, curling up tighter. Nova held the girl to her chest – as if she were the one dying, as if Bebe was the one who could save her. The kohl smudged around her eyes, running down her cheeks like black tears as she watched Bebe twist in agony, in horror, in _anguish_-

She couldn't move the small girl without causing her more pain. And there was no way she would be quick enough. She needed Joy _here._

"Someone, help us! _Please_!" Nova cried out. "_Someone_! Bailey, go get Joy-"

Nova's chest was heaving. Her body was shaking. She hugged Bebe tighter, face twisted with helpless rage, teeth bared, fingers curled like claws.

She would find the person who poisoned her. She would find them and tear their fucking _throat _out with her bare hands.

But for all her rage – for all her strength as she tried to lift Bebe in her arms – there was a foe that she couldn't defeat.

And that was death itself.

"I'm scared, Nova…"

Nova smoothed Bebe's blonde hair. Straightened her dress. Smiled through her tears. "I have you. Don't be scared. I'm here. Nova is here…"

"A goodnight kiss?"

A sob.

"Bebe, _please, _you'll be okay…"

Nova's face crumpled, her shoulders wracking and shaking, her heart and voice hollow as she cried. Bebe pressed a small, trembling hand to Nova's cheek, smudging it with red.

"A goodnight kiss, Nova?"

And what could Nova do? Let the small child go without saying goodbye?

So, with her eyes closed, Nova kissed the girl on her bloody cheek. On her golden hair. On her small, small hand. Blood on her mouth. Water in her eyes. Shadows rolling around her.

She had made a promise to Joy. She had made a promise…

And now…

With one final heartbeat, her promise was broken.

* * *

Joy came only seconds after, Barry, Happiny, and Bailey right behind her. She took one glance at the dead girl, at the dead Glameow, at the crying gladiator with her Golbat.

And the healer's face crumpled.

"Bebe! _Bebe_!" Joy cried out, collapsing beside Nova, snatching the child into her arms. "My baby, _no_… Please wake up. Wake up! Please, _please_…"

Nova felt sick just watching her. She felt sick and angry and numb and tired and hurt-

"What's this?" Joy suddenly asked.

The healer's hand was on the mask beside Bebe, the paper scrunched up on it. Her red eyes skimmed the paper, reading and reading, sobbing as she read, her teeth gritting as she read and read and read-

And suddenly, Joy dropped the paper and slapped Nova on the face.

"You _bitch_!" she hissed. "You absolute fucking _bitch_!"

Nova held her face.

Sick. Numb. Angry. Tired. Hurt.

And too weak to say anything as the healer wrapped her fingers around her neck and _squeezed_.

"I'll kill you," Joy snapped. "I'll _kill _you, you bitch. You stinking whore. You fucking-"

Nova didn't fight back, even as her vision turned dark. She let Joy scratch her face, let the healer slap her again and again-

Even in her numbness, she could hear Barry telling Joy to back off. She could see him and Bailey working together to rip Joy away from her throat, could see him telling her never to touch his best friend like that ever again.

"Leave her, Barry," Nova said quietly. "Let her."

But Barry refused. He held Joy tightly by the wrists.

"All of this is because of _you_," Joy was crying out, desperately trying to yank herself free from Barry's grip, her gaze locked onto Nova. "If we had never met you, Bebe would still be alive. None of this would have happened. You filthy fucking _whore_. Look what you've done. Look what you've _done_, you _murderer_!"

Even Barry was stunned by the words. He jerked back, and suddenly, the healer was out of his hands and back onto the gladiator, reaching for her throat, ready to strangle her.

It was then that knights came. One of them screamed something about the girl with pink hair going mad, and with a short word from Barry, they were all pulling Joy back, saying something about taking the mad witch to Hearthome, something about waiting for her to regain her senses.

Joy screamed and cried and swore in their arms as they marched her back to Hearthome. And Nova could only watch and croak, her hands still wet with blood.

A few knights stayed to ask if Nova had killed the small child in her lap. Nova almost said yes. Barry interrupted her and told the knights to piss off.

And, when they were gone, Barry fell beside his best friend and touched her shoulder. Prinplup and Staravia and Golbat all whimpering beside them.

"Nova…"

"Go to Hearthome and tell the knights that Joy is not a mad witch. Make sure she's okay for me."

Barry frowned. "I want to make sure _you're _okay."

"I'll be okay if you fucking go and look after Joy."

And though the blind boy looked dubious, he finally stumbled onto his feet.

"I'll tell your Pokémon to come look for you here."

"Just go."

She didn't see when he left. She was too busy reaching for Bebe, straightening the girl's hair, touching her cold cheeks.

And, as she leaned down, the gracidea flower fell from her hair and onto Bebe's heart.

Just like that, the gladiator knew exactly what to do.

* * *

Lucas, who had been chasing after the screaming and swearing for himself, had found Barry before the gladiator had even reached Hearthome. There was a quick exchange of words – something about Bebe being dead, something about Joy being taken by knights, something about Nova sounding like absolute death.

The blind gladiator even cried, then, with his Prinplup and Nova's Staravia keening behind him. And Lucas snapped to action.

He barked orders to the nearest knights he could find, demanding that they find the knights that took Joy and release her immediately. With a weak smile, Barry insisted on coming with them, linking his arms with a knight and asking them if he could wipe his snot on their armour.

Then, Lucas was running further into the grassland and rocks. He tried to look for a trail of blood, but there was none at all – just the smell of ale and sweat.

And, as he followed the scent, he found himself outside the Lost Tower. The pillar of stone that only the royals and legionaries used to bury their loved ones.

There stood Nova, blood on her hands and face, Bebe in her arms, Golbat behind her. She was just by the entrance, where two knights stood, blocking the door.

"What do you want, miss?" one of them asked her. Ignoring the limp body in her arms.

"I want to bury my sister."

"And who is your sister?"

"Lady Bebe or Floaroma."

The knight arched his brow. "Is she a legionary? A royal?"

"No."

"Are _you_ a legionary? A royal?"

"No."

"Then piss off," the knight said with a snort. "Toss her in the river. Dump her in the waste. It all gets sent to Twinleaf, anyways-"

He screamed as Golbat scratched his face. The other one reached for his belt, to grab his Pokéballs, but Lucas took a step forward.

"No," he called out to his fellow knights. "She may pass."

Nova didn't even turn back to face him. She just slipped between the knights and darted into the tower.

Both her Golbat and Lucas followed her as she ran up crumbling staircase after crumbling staircase, her gaze as hard as steel, her face completely blank.

And Lucas could only watch as she reached the top – not even panting – where only the _true _royalty lay. Not even the children of kings and queens were buried there – only the kings and queens themselves.

But it was there that Nova chose to fall to her knees and dig with her bare, bleeding hands. She threw mud everywhere, letting it splatter her face, but being oh, so careful not to let a single bit of dirt touch the small girl on her lap.

Lucas knew he would be in trouble for helping her. Hell, he was _already _in shits for letting her pass.

Yet, he still moved to her side, sank to his knees, and helped her dig. His own nails bleeding as he scraped the cold, hard dirt. His own tunic dark with mud.

And, by Arceus, when Nova glanced up at him with utter shock and agony in her face, when she reached out and touched his cheek and nodded-

He knew what he had to do.

Even if it meant throwing himself into shits.

* * *

Nova didn't stop digging for a second until she and Lucas had dug a hole deep enough and long enough to fit Bebe's body. Even then, she didn't let herself rest – she swallowed down the knots in her throat and lowered her friend into her grave, saying a last goodbye, kissing a final farewell.

When she found whoever had poisoned her, when she got her filthy hands on whoever wanted to hurt the girl who could have changed the world with her infectious grin and big ideas and endless stretches of hope-

She would make them bleed. She would make them _suffer. _

Why would someone poison Bebe? Why? _Why_? Had someone at the dance spiked the apple juice for sport? Were there other people in Hearthome, choking on their own blood, taking their final breaths?

Livia moaned as Lucas flattened the dirt around them. Nova turned to the Golbat and touched her face.

"Livia," she said softly, "I want you to stay here and guard this grave with your life. Can you do that for me, my love?"

The Golbat nodded and nudged her head against Nova.

Still, Nova felt sick. All around her, there were graves of royals – graves with tall, marble statues of the dead, graves with poems written over the tombstones, graves with silk and flowers draped over them.

And all Bebe had was a single gracidea flower atop her grave.

A few minutes later, though, Lucas was standing up and moving to the corner of the room, where the stack of unused tombstones lay. Then, he was dragging one towards her, sweat along his brow, quietly fixing it upon Bebe's grave.

He took out his sword, placing it close to the stone, ready to write, when Nova snatched it from his hands.

"I want to do it," she told him.

It took her more than a few minutes to remember what Bebe had taught her about spelling. About writing the girl's name. Bibi, Beebee – what did the spelling matter when she was _dead_?

But Nova didn't carve a single letter until she was sure she was right.

Because it _did _matter. Her friend _mattered_.

And so, there and then, November of Twinleaf wrote her very first word.

_Bebe. _

And, somewhere behind and before and above and beneath her, two voices spoke. Watching her in a way that she couldn't watch them.

"…_poor wee lass. time has been cruel to her…" _

"…_AYE…"_

"…_and who killed the child?..."_

"…_ONLY TIME WILL TELL…"_

"…_and i suppose now is when i acquaint myself with her?..." _

"…_AYE. BE NICE TO HER…"_

"…_don't be ridiculous. you know i'm never nice to anyone…"_

* * *

So, readers and writers, you must be wondering: what was on the letter that Joy had read?

Well, since I'm feeling oh, so generous – and, in all honestly, rather pitiful towards your weak little hearts – I thought I'd let you see the letter for yourself:

_This is a warning, November of Twinleaf. End your gladiator journey here. Go back to the wastes. _

_Otherwise, this lass won't be the only one who suffers. Your other friends will be next. _

So, you see, lovely readers and writers, the letter was meant for our dear November.

'Tis a shame our sweet little bitch can't read, aye?

* * *

**I'm sorry. This wasn't even a spontaneous decision. I knew this would be happening from the second I decided to introduce her. **

**And now, with this chapter concluded, we are well into the tango that is this second arc. **

**Also, I decided to rewrite the prologue, for anyone who is curious to do a quick reread. The initial prologue had been written and published well before I had fully fleshed out my plot to myself, and it showed. I quite like the revamp. **

**Thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited, and reviewed. Every notification that arrives in my inbox makes my heart skip a beat. Thank you very much! **


	23. Chapter XXII

**Chapter XXII**

The thing about crying is that, once done is long doses, one becomes weak. Dizzy. Tired.

And so, after staring at Bebe's grave long enough to memorise every grain and crumbling bit of rock along the tombstone, Nova lost track of all. At some point, with the moonlight filtering through the cracks along the Lost Tower's walls, she found herself balancing onto Lucas's arms as she stumbled out. At some point, as she was dragged to Solaceon, all of her Pokémon had come parading back to her – every single one of the dozen.

Though she didn't remember doing so, she had ordered them all to travel together to Oreburgh and rest with Frazer the Onix. For the most part, they had obeyed, but there were five that stubbornly clung to her side – Tric the Monferno, Bailey the Staravia, Rhys the Luxio, Leila the Budew, and Owl the Shellos.

And, of course, Livia the Golbat remained by Bebe's grave. Always on guard. Always thinking about the poor gladiator that had soldiered on without her.

Nova didn't remember walking through all the farms. She didn't remember hearing the squeals and snorts of Swinub, or the shrieking of the Psyduck, or the Miltank that mooed quietly in one of the pens. The hay, the little grey houses that dotted the hills, the pools of mud – she didn't remember a single thing.

She didn't even remember Lucas asking one of the farmers if Nova could stay the night with them. She didn't remember them agreeing and helping her change out of her gown and back into the old tunic and britches that Bailey had brought along.

All she remembered was sitting on a bed – one as soft as wool – and facing a small boy and his father while they eyed her and her Pokémon.

"_You're _a gladiator?" the little boy said, snarling. "You're flimsier than a Shinx's tail."

The words hurt. Not because they were true, but because she had heard someone else describe something else as a Shinx's tail only days ago.

_Bebe. About Joy's hair. _

"Son," the man was saying, "I told you, don't-"

"Shut yer trap, Father!"

The man flinched back. "Son, please, we've told you: don't talk to people like this. It's impolite."

"It's impolite to throw some wretched girl in my room!"

And though Nova arched her brow as the young lad went so far to _kick _his father, she didn't say a word. She threw a warning glance to Leila, whose vines were already outstretched, ready to whip the wee lad for hurting his own family.

The man quickly apologised to her for his son's behaviour. Nova shrugged it off.

She didn't want to sleep in this small, dusty room with some spoilt brat. She wanted Lucas. She wanted Barry. She wanted-

Bebe. She wanted Bebe.

The second his father left, the small boy sagged onto his own bed and scowled.

"I hate him," he spat. "He won't let me be a gladiator."

Nova blinked at him. "What?"

"My father. I hate him."

This time, Nova dragged herself off the bed. Raised a threatening finger to his nose. "Listen, lad," she said slowly. "Your father won't let you be a gladiator? Good. It's because he doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Bull-"

"You want to know what _my _father did? He tried to kill me before I was even born. So I would shut yer trap."

The boy spat onto the floor. "Bitch."

"A bitch with a sword," she shot back.

It was enough to make him shrink back into his covers, but not enough to stop him from muttering, "I hope you die. I hope you and my father rot in the shadows."

And, for once, Nova didn't entirely disagree with him.

* * *

When she did dream that night, she had nightmare after nightmare of Bebe.

She dreamt of the small girl swimming in a river, laughing until she was dragged down to the bottom. She dreamt of the small girl wearing armour, running into some gladiator, sword raised, screaming with her ever so delicate voice. She dreamt of the small girl sneaking ale into her glass – ale that was as red as blood.

But when she woke up, sweating and sobbing, she saw that she wasn't the only one.

The boy across from her was twitching in his sleep, a sheen of sweat over his face, mumbling, "Father, no…"

And, above him, was a figure. Dark as shadows. A plume of fog drifting from its head like smoke. A ring of red around its neck. An eye as blue as Nova's own.

_A Pokémon… _

The shadows rippled around the boy, and he kept whimpering, crying out in his sleep, calling out his father's name.

"Hey!" Nova hissed, frowning as she realised that all of her Pokémon were snoring away. "Leave him!"

"…_she awakes…" _

And, with those words slipping from the figure, it was moving out of the room as quickly and quietly as a ghost.

Nova took one last glance at her Pokémon. Then, she raced after the shadows.

She found herself in some ruins – crumbling and old, weeds spilling out of the cracks along the walls. And though it was dark, though there was no light falling through the stones, there were little Pokémon – little things called Unown – moving around her, lighting up the rocky cavern with their lights of ice blue and shimmering green and soft pink.

Nova followed them down staircase after staircase, through mural after mural of gold and steel, of trees with fruit and mountains of jewels. She traced the carvings along the walls, frowning as she realised that the shapes were exactly like those of the Pokémon around her, and only stopped once she reached the final floor.

In that room, there was a mirror. No shadow Pokémon, no nightmares, nothing. Not even the Unown followed her down the final staircase.

For a second, Nova nearly laughed.

She was a fool. She had chased after something that she had probably imagined – something that didn't truly exist.

She was going mad. She was sure of it.

Even as she glanced at the mirror, she hardly recognised herself. There was still smudged kohl over her face. There was still crusted blood along her hands. Her eyes were red and swollen and blank.

The only thing that seemed _normal _was the small bit of ink that she could see when her shirt slid down her shoulder. The ink of Duke Rowan's name, there for anyone to see, scrawled along her back.

She thought about Joy. About what the healer had said to her after reading some bloody note – some bloody note that Nova _still _didn't know entirely about.

Had it really been her fault?

If she hadn't become a gladiator, she would never have met Bebe. She would never have met Joy. They would be safe in Jubilife, perhaps, in some inn. Laughing. Reading. Planning their next journey to visit their father.

And yet, the nightmares…

_Bebe drowning in water. Bebe fighting with a sword. Bebe choking on ale. _

_As if her death had been inevitable from the beginning… _

The images were like wildfire in her mind. She stumbled onto the ground, her breath catching as she felt something cold beneath her fingers, as she felt-

A sword.

It was a beautiful thing. Sharp and clear and new, and yet, not made of steel.

No, it was made of _diamond. _

Nova raised it in her hand. Considered the ink along her back. Wondering.

She could draw a line straight through the name. She could ruin the stupid brand. Destroy it, like it had destroyed her.

And so, she raised the sword above her head. Angled it slowly. Took a long breath.

And _sliced_.

But when she drew the sword back into her lap, there was no blood on it, nor was there any pain in her back. Sure enough, as she turned around and glanced back at the mirror, the tattoo was still there. There was no cut, no blood, no nothing. As if she hadn't even touched it.

The sword, though, was no longer clear. No – the blade was rippling and twisting darkness, and as Nova tried to slice a bit of her own finger, it went straight through. Not a single scratch left on her.

It was black as night. Black as shadows. Black as that Pokémon.

"How is it doing that?" she breathed out.

"…_when the sword is black, it means there are shadows around it. and shadows can't hurt anyone…"_

Nova raised her gaze from the sword and found herself facing that blue eye.

"What?"

"…_shadows. nightmares. they can't hurt anyone physically now, can they? but if you try using the sword when there are no shadows…" _

The darkness vanished from the sword, leaving it as blue and clear as crystal. Nova pressed it down into her finger and, this time, felt a stab of pain as blood dribbled from the cut.

"…_you bleed…" _

Nova dropped the sword.

Oh, Arceus.

She had to get out of there. She had to-

"…_there's no need to be afraid…" _

Nova caught herself as she nearly stepped back, as the shadow Pokémon moved closer to her. "I'm not afraid."

"…_there's no need to lie, either, november…" _

"You know my name."

"…_aye…" _

His voice was just a rasp – a mere whisper in her ears. And, finally, Nova understood.

It was Darkrai. The legend. The bearer of nightmares. The Pokémon that parents told their children about when they were misbehaving. Even her mother had used it on her, back when she was a wee little lass.

"_Mother! I'm tired of eating bread all the time!"_

"_If you don't eat all that bread, Darkrai will give you nightmares tonight!"_

Nova took a sharp breath.

"Darkrai," she said slowly. "You gave me the nightmares tonight."

"…_aye. i did…" _

"Why?"

Nova couldn't see a smile, but she could hear the amusement in his voice as he answered, _"…why not?..."_

"Because they're painful."

"…_aye, but they teach you things, do they not?..." _

She wanted to argue. She wanted to fight. The nightmares taught her nothing. The nightmares showed her nothing but-

"…_nova. it was not your fault. you cannot blame yourself…" _

And though Nova had so, so many words to say to that, she only took a step closer to Darkrai.

"Who killed her?"

"…_i do not know…" _

"How do you not know? You're _Darkrai_, are you not? The legend?"

"…_i can only be so many places at once…" _

"Then go to the right fucking places, aye?"

The Darkrai only blinked slowly.

"…_well. that was incredibly rude…"_

Nova rolled her eyes and kicked at the sword beneath her. "What about the boy? Why would you give him nightmares? Are you teaching him that it's not his fault, too, that Bebe is dead?"

"…_don't be ridiculous. i just like hearing little boys scream…" _

"_What?_"

"…_i only jest…" _

He slowly circled around her, shadows swirling and rippling behind him.

"…_you see, november, i feed on people's fear. but i'm not heartless. i like to teach while i feed…" _

"Teach?"

"…_the boy dreamt of his father dying. multiple times. he saw his father being kicked by a skunktank. he saw his father drowning in a river. he saw his father having his toes bitten off by a buneary…"_

Nova frowned. "That's disgusting."

"…_i like to keep things interesting…" _

"And that's sadistic."

"…_indeed. but when the boy wakes up, remembering the many, many deaths of his father…" _

He never got to finish. For, in that second, the Unown by the stairs started humming and buzzing and flashing their colourfully dotted lights around. And, only then did Nova hear the footsteps.

"Nova?" a voice called out. "Nova!"

Nova almost considered mouthing a quick thanks to Arceus.

Lucas. Lucas was here.

"…_tch. the pest again…" _

Nova whirled around and hissed at the Darkrai. "Lucas is not a pest."

"…_shocker. what's next? are you going to tell me that you're not a snarky little tart?..." _

Then, he was melting into the floor, his shadows sliding down the rocks until-

Nova jerked back as she realised that he was sinking _into _her shadow – making it darker and inkier and fuller.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"…_hiding…"_

"In my shadow?"

"…_i like to keep things interesting…" _

"You're a fuc-"

"Nova? Are you talking to yourself?"

Had it been anyone else, Nova might have been embarrassed to be caught snarling at her own feet. But, with Lucas hovering by the stairs, she didn't give a damn. She just shoved the sword into her belt and stared at him.

The knight, though, didn't approach her. He only waited there, frowning.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm…"

Nova stopped herself from answering.

For, in that second, she realised that she didn't feel scared anymore. She didn't feel like pissing herself. It was as if the Darkrai in her shadows was eating away her fear, feeding on her worry and grief and terror.

So, instead, she looked closely at Lucas's face. At his red-rimmed eyes. The tear stains down his cheeks.

"Have you been crying?" she asked him, ever so quietly.

"I…"

Nova raised her hand. "Why did you leave me in that inn? Why didn't you let me cry with you?"

"Knights aren't… We're not supposed to cry."

"That's bullshit."

Lucas closed his eyes. "I know."

And, with Darkrai taking away the knots from her stomach and her throat, Nova forced a smile and held out her arms. "Come 'ere, you big ol' snot."

He fell into her arms, his head buried in the crook of her neck, whispering, "She was only a little girl…"

Just like that, Nova felt like she was being lashed with grief. The pain and hurt that Darkrai had so carefully taken away was back, forcing the tears to return to her eyes, forcing her throat to clench as she choked on her sob.

That's when she realised that her shadow was no longer darker than dark. Instead, Darkrai was behind Lucas, watching. Letting her feel the pain again.

And so, Nova let herself feel the pain. Accepted it. Embraced it.

"She was going to change the world," she told Lucas, letting herself squeeze him tighter, letting herself cry into his sleeve. "Once she stopped telling me to quit swearing, she was going to do so much good for Sinnoh."

Both she and Lucas laughed a little at that.

"Tell me about her," the knight said. "How did you meet her?"

For the rest of the night – until the sunrise shone through the cracks along the walls – they sat on the stairs and spoke about Bebe. About her love for swearing. About her ideas. About her terrible attempts to sneak some ale at the ball.

By the end, they were no longer crying. They were smiling. Even laughing. And Darkrai had crept back into Nova's shadow, lurking there silently.

"She also yelled out _fuck Queen Cynthia_?"

"Yeah. She was the first one to do it after me."

Lucas shook his head, exasperated. "She was a good friend."

"The best," Nova corrected. "She was like a sister."

The knight's face fell for a second – so quick that the gladiator almost missed it.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Lucas shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"Too late."

"I was just…" There was the slightest of hesitations. Then, with a sigh, Lucas said, "I was thinking about my sister."

"Where is she?"

Another pause. Another sharp breath.

"My sister is with Bebe."

Oh. _Oh._

"I'm sorry," Nova said softly. "What happened?"

"My father-"

"Cyrus?"

Lucas blinked back his surprise. "You know of him?"

"I _met _him," Nova pointed out. "I may have tried to kill him."

He laughed at that. "I wouldn't have held it against you. My father… He likes spells. He grew up with books about them – about summoning legendries and such. He was good at it, too. And he never did anything bad whenever it worked. He just tried it, and if it worked, he let the legendry go instantly. It was like, bloody hell, it was like fishing. But he did it with songs instead of a rod."

"…_interesting company he must keep…" _

Nova almost jumped as Darkrai spoke. Lucas reached for her, steadying her, asking if she was okay.

"You didn't hear that?" she asked him.

"Hear what?"

"…_i don't want the pest to hear me, so of course not…" _

Both Nova and Lucas stared at one another. One of them frowning as she heard the voice again, and one of them frowning as he heard absolutely nothing.

"It doesn't matter," Nova quickly said. "Just carry on. Your father. Spells."

Lucas nodded warily, but continued nonetheless, saying, "One day, he thought he was ready to summon Heatran, of all things. My sister always helped him – she _loved _the songs. But something must have gone wrong, because Heatran never showed up, and the house caught on fire instead. I hadn't been home – I was a messenger lad, and I had been on an errand to Sandgem, and got held up near Twinleaf with some knights. But when I came home, I found that my house in Canalave had been burnt down. My father had been burnt everywhere, but he had survived. My little sister and mother had not. He said he had tried saving them, and I believe him, but still…"

Nova squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry."

With a long, shaking breath, Lucas closed his eyes.

"I thought he would stop the spells after that, but he won't listen. Even now, I know he's trying something else. I wouldn't know – one year later, when Lord Byron let me join his side as a knight, I told my father I never wanted to see him again."

"Can't you arrest him now?" Nova asked. "For everything with the Galactic Healers? The ones that killed Gardenia?"

Lucas glanced down at his feet. "I don't know. I want to. But he is still my father."

They sat there in silence, watching the lights of the Unown, their minds lost in completely different worlds. Both about dead sisters, about fathers they resented.

"Nova," Lucas finally said. "What you feel now about Bebe… it won't get easier. But it will get more normal."

"I don't know if I want it to be normal."

He smiled sadly. "Here. Let me show you something."

And, with a small word of warning, Lucas started to pry open the buttons of his shirt.

"…_ah, yes, getting naked. the perfect way to deal with grief…" _

Nova nearly told Darkrai to shut up. Nearly.

Lucas turned away from her as his shirt fell to the ground. And the gladiator couldn't help herself – she froze.

Along his back was a tattoo of a Honchkrow – each little feather made from multiple strokes of ink. It took up the entire top half of his back, and on the bottom half, lay three lone feathers – tattooed as if they were drifting their way down to his britches.

"Each feather is a friend I have lost," Lucas said. "Every time a knight died under my watch, I tattooed a feather."

Nova heard the pain in his voice – saw him shiver as she touched the tattoo. "And what about the Honchkrow?"

"That's for my sister and my mother. It was their favourite Pokémon."

There was more silence as Nova traced the tattoo, the feathers, the beak, the talons.

Was that why he had become a knight? So that he could protect those he cared for?

Nova's finger came to a halt as she reached the final, dark feather.

"Can I have one, too?"

Lucas turned around, his brows drawn. "A tattoo?"

"Aye. For Bebe."

"Are you _sure_?"

"Aye. I'm sure."

* * *

Luckily, Lucas was a fine inksman himself. After spending the day buying ink, the pair were back in the farmer's inn, Nova face-down on the bed as he traced the needle into her skin. Leaving behind the tattoo of a gracidea flower for Bebe, and two fallen petals – one for Gardenia, and one for Bebe's father.

It hurt. It hurt like _hell_.

But, with Darkrai eating away her fear, with Tric the Monferno squeezing her hand as they remembered the last time she had been tattooed…

Nova smiled at her Pokémon, even as she winced through the pain. There was Rhys the Luxio, who looked as if he were ready to bite Lucas's head off every time Nova swore from the pain. There was Tric, squeezing her hand tighter and tighter, growling at Rhys to back off. There was Bailey the Staravia, clumsily trying his best to help, but who had been snapped at by all of them because he kept tipping over the pot of ink. There was Owl the Shellos, the most shy one of them all, and yet the only one who had picked up that there was something not quite right about Nova's shadow – sniffing at it, glancing up at Nova, a question in her eyes.

And, finally, there was Leila the Budew. Watching Lucas and Nova and her companion Pokémon from the corner of the room. Smiling as the gracidea flower was tattooed on.

But, slowly, as the ink kept swiping across Nova's back, the Budew began to glow. Began to _evolve_.

And Leila the Budew was no longer a Budew, but a Roselia.

For once, everyone else cheered. Even Rhys stopped frowning to give a small, lopsided grin as the Roselia twirled around and around, staring in awe at the roses along her arms. Both Nova and Lucas laughed as Bailey tried to sniff the roses, only to be stunned and paralysed by the flower.

That night, just as Nova was about to sleep, she saw the little boy – the little boy who had sworn at her and kicked his father the night before. She didn't even have to ask about his nightmare; the second his father came to say goodnight, the little boy was on his feet, hugging his father, kissing him on the forehead, promising never to kick him again.

Nova could have sworn that her shadow rippled at the sight of it.

"…_i like to keep things interesting…" _

With all five of her Pokémon _and _Lucas somehow curled up on the small bed with her (though, there was sure to be Shellos goop in the knight's mouth by morning), and with Darkrai sighing in her shadows, Nova slept.

And she had no nightmares that night.

* * *

**After the chaos that was last chapter, I thought I'd give everyone a bit of a breather. Also, Nova needed the breather, too. **

**Introducing one of the voices, Darkrai. Did I catch a Darkrai in my nuzlocke run? No. Therefore, Nova will not be using Darkrai as one of her team. However, I decided to include him because, well, well, well, well… Well. Darkrai is frowned upon. Nova is frowned upon. That's as much as I can say.**

**Anyways, it's nearing Christmas! While I can't do Christmas specials (there isn't really a Christmas in Sinnoh because… well, duh), I promise that next week's chapter will be a nice treat. Barry will be back, I promise there won't be any death, and it'll be a happy little break from the rather cruel storyline. I'll let everyone forget the secrets and the blood for just a chapter – because, hey, it is Christmas. **

**And, better yet, in the first chapter of 2020, we'll hear Nova tell the full story of why she wants to change her name. **

**Aesthetically pleasing, aye? **


	24. Chapter XXIII

**Chapter XXIII**

The next morning, Nova found herself balancing on stacks of hay in the back of a stable, surrounded by Miltank and her own Pokémon. Leila the Roselia was twirling around, sprinkling petals everywhere, while the rest of them were playing some ridiculous game to see which of them could catch the most petals. Rhys the Luxio and Tric the Monferno had been tied, occasionally scratching each other in an attempt to steal, but then Bailey the Staravia had hurtled straight into them – making all three of them lose the petals in their mouths as they growled at one another (well, Rhys and Tric growled; Bailey just shrieked and flew to Nova's side for cover).

Which, of course, meant that Owl the Shellos was the victor with the single, lone petal in her mouth.

"…_adorable, aren't they?..." _

Nova glanced down at her shadow – dark enough that it seemed to eat up the morning light, rippling as though it was alive. "Care to join them?" she asked it, so quietly that even the Staravia next to her hardly seemed to notice.

"…_i really would rather not…" _

"What's this? Don't tell me that you're shy."

"…_shy? don't be ridiculous. i simply would rather watch others make fools of themselves than be the fool…" _

Before Nova could answer the Darkrai, she felt a shadow fall over her face and found Lucas moving into the barn. He still was out of his knight gear, and he seemed awfully boyish as he strode up to her and handed over a glass of Moomoo Milk.

"Barry's here," he told her, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he watched the gladiator drain the glass in barely a second.

Nova squinted up at him. "Barry? Where?"

"In Solaceon. I could hear him hollering from the kitchens."

"Let's go see him, then."

Lucas grabbed her by the elbow and shook his head as she jumped onto her feet. "Don't worry. He'll find us."

"How?"

"It's part of his training," he explained. "He has a Ponyta, and I always ask them to track things – and people – down together. He should be here in a few minutes."

"_That's_ your training? That's ridiculous."

The knight only grinned. "You should have been there the other day, when I asked him to carry his Prinplup on his back while dangling from a tree."

"By Arceus, maybe it's a good thing that Duke Rowan doesn't give a damn about me and my training."

And she meant it. She was _glad _that the duke barely seemed to act as though she existed.

Because, after everything that had happened – with the Galactic Healers, Bebe and Joy, and now the Darkrai eating away the fear in her gut but not the pain in her heart – she had decided that she done with the gladiator rubbish. She had already screwed up one promise to look after a little girl; she was _not _about to screw up her own promise to her mother.

The best part was that Duke Rowan probably wouldn't even know if she ran back to Twinleaf. He would just think of her as dead.

"Speaking of Duke Rowan," Lucas was saying, "I need to talk to him."

Nova glanced up, alarmed. "About what?"

"Well, firstly, I need to make sure he got the gold that you earned him after winning your legionary crystals," he answered. "But I also need to talk to him about how his daughter wouldn't let you into the Spring Dance."

"His daughter? Fantina is his _daughter?_"

Lucas frowned. "Aye, Lady Fantina and Lord Byron are his daughter and son, which makes Roark his grandson. Everyone knows this, Nova. Have you been living under a Golem?"

"Bloody hell, I lived in Twinleaf, which is close enough-"

Once again, the lass's words were cut off as a boy stumbled in, a Ponyta by his side.

"Barry!"

The words had come from both Lucas and Nova, and with a little huff about how much easier it was when only one person spoke at a time, Barry moved towards Lucas and threw his arms around the knight – with only one snort of warning from his Ponyta as he nearly missed the knight and fell into a pile of hay.

"Say, Nova," Barry said as he hugged Lucas, "I have ta' say, you smell awfully nice for once."

Nova rolled her eyes as Lucas laughed. "That's because you're not smelling me, you nonce."

"I know. I'm just teasin'." Barry released Lucas from his embrace and moved over to the voice of his fellow gladiator. He didn't even have to feel for her; the second he was near her, she threw herself into his arms, letting him ruffle her hair, letting him whisper, "How're ya, Nova?"

It was an odd question for Nova to answer. She still felt a dull ache in her chest, still felt hollow in her head. But with all her Pokémon, with Lucas and Barry and even the bloody Darkrai, with the tattoo still stinging a bit as she remembered her friend…

She was calm. She was angry. She was hurt. She was on the verge of a breakdown.

But she could breathe again.

"I'm okay," she finally said. "How's Joy?"

Barry winced. "Could be better, that's for sure. She ain't strangling other lasses, so there's a start."

"_Barry_."

"_And_," the boy continued, "I asked if she wanted to come back and talk to you, but she won't. She wouldn't even go to Lost Tower with me. She just said that she's going back to the Hearthome inns for work or somethin'."

Nova sighed and took a step back from her friend. "She was like that when her father died, too. She didn't want to look over any of his stuff. She just wanted to move on."

Barry found her hands and squeezed them tight. "It's not yer fault, Nova."

"I know."

"…_oh, so you listen when he says it, but not when i say it? you wound me, november…" _

Nova ignored the Darkrai. Instead, she turned to Lucas.

"Where are you and Barry going now?" she asked.

Lucas's gaze took a quick sweep of Barry, of Nova, of the Pokémon that were currently choking on petals. "Now, we-"

He was interrupted by a sharp rap. Not on the door, but drumming softly on the roof like a hail of arrows, like-

Both Barry and Nova froze. Held each other's hands tighter.

"What's that?" Barry asked slowly.

Lucas eyed them warily. "It's just rain. Why do you look like you're-"

"Holy shit," Barry cut in, reaching out to slap Nova gently on the arm. "Am I losin' me hearing, too, or did he just say rain?"

Nova was already moving away from her friend, towards the barn doors, swinging it open while muttering, "If you're losin' yer ears, then I'm…"

The door flew open. Nova gasped.

"Holy shit, Barry, it _is _rain!"

And then, both of the gladiators were racing out of the barn and into the rain, leaving behind a very flustered and bewildered Lucas.

* * *

For, you see, rain in Twinleaf was a scarce thing. And, by scarce, I mean that Barry and Nova had only seen the rain once in their lives – about ten years back, when they were wee little snots. Everyone in Twinleaf had rushed out to see it or feel it, to live it and breathe it, to bathe and dance in it.

It was no different, even ten years later, when the two were carrying swords and armour with them.

They laughed at the first roar of thunder, as the rain mixed with their tears. They held each other as they danced in the silver sheets of rain, feeling it like mist upon their faces, Barry crying out as Nova slammed her boots into puddles and sent water and mud arcing onto his britches.

It was beautiful, even with mud oozing beneath their boots. It was peaceful, even with the lightning scowling down at them. It was perfect, even with the blood and death and pain they had lived through.

"It's raining!" Barry yelled out over the rain, feeling for Nova, patting her wet hair and her wet clothes and her wet skin. "Your hair… It's wet! You're wet! Nova, it's _raining_!"

Nova laughed. Even the Pokémon were having an absolute ball – Rhys was carrying Owl and Leila on his back, jumping in puddles so that water leapt at them. Bailey and Barry's Staravia were shrieking at the thunder, as if they were having a fine conversation. Even Lucas had sent out his Pokémon, and his Torterra and Clefable were laughing as Barry's Prinplup slid in the mud.

Only poor Tric the Monferno and Barry's Ponyta lingered in the doorway of the barn, hissing at the rain. With them was Lucas's Alakazam, but the more Nova looked, the more she realised that the psychic-type wasn't looking at the rain with suspicion etched on his face, but at her rippling shadow that seemed too dark – especially considering the lack of sunlight.

"Nova," Barry was saying. "What does the rain look like?"

Nova grinned. Closed her eyes. Breathed in the dampness and the cold. "It's like… a blur. Like, all the colours are smudging into… into… blue. But it's a different blue. It's like the first time you hear a baby laugh. It feels like wearing armour and having that one spot near your eyes that isn't covered. And it tastes like tea with no cream."

"Wow," Barry breathed out. "That's crazy."

"I know. It's beautiful."

The boy snorted. "Oh, I'm not talkin' about the rain, lass. I'm talkin' about how you sound like a poetic little oaf."

"Oh, go to hell-"

"…_the boy has a point…"_

"To hell with you, too!"

Barry frowned. "To who, too?"

Luckily, it was Lucas who rescued Nova from sounding like an absolute fool as she considered explaining that she had Darkrai lurking in her shadows.

"You two are going to get sick from the rain," the knight said, frowning as he hovered near the barn.

Barry clicked his tongue. "Don't be such a pantywaist. Come _on_! Join us – it'll be fun."

The knight considered this. Then, slowly, he grinned.

"I suppose it _does _make good training. _That_ will be fun."

* * *

Once again, Lucas proved to Nova that his definition of _fun _was madly different to the regular lad.

"Too slow, Nova."

The flat side of Lucas's blade patted Nova's hip, and though she tried to move aside, she slipped on the mud and fell to her knees. Barry lunged with a fierce cry of his own, but Lucas was already twisting aside, bringing his blade down – but jerking it back before it actually struck the gladiator's forearm. Barry stumbled back into Nova, and a second near-swipe from Lucas sent the pair of them sprawling, lying in the dirt, drenched to the bones.

"I can't believe he thinks it's fun to kick our arses up and down Solaceon," Nova muttered.

"…_well, i know i'm certainly enjoying myself…" _

Nova wiped the rain from her eyes and dragged herself to her feet, pulling Barry out of the mud. Their Pokémon were also struggling – Torterra was launching vines at Prinplup and Rhys, battering them back across the dirt. Even the Clefable was grinning as Owl and Leila charged at her, twisting aside at just the right time, letting the pair fall into the wet grass.

But, by Arceus, the Alakazam was downright _terrifying_. He moved like water and struck like thunder, the light from his spoons catching the two Staravias with ease, moving in a way that could possibly bruise the air around them.

"And he says the Alakazam isn't the strongest," Barry whispered as his Staravia gave a particularly loud caw – a caw that sounded suspiciously like _help_.

They fought more – this time, against each other, rather than against Lucas. Their blades cracking, their boots tripping over one another as Barry struggled to hear her over the rain, as they both found themselves rolling in the mud.

Then, Lucas said, "What have I told you both about jumping like a bride at her wedding?"

Just like that, the two gladiators dropped their weapons and started dancing in the rain, instead. Laughing as Lucas protested, as they scooped their Pokémon in their arms and just twirled and let the rain pelt their faces.

Eventually, Lucas gave up trying to make them spar. And, after spinning Barry around and around, after grinning like a fool as he tried to twirl her around, Nova found herself glancing back at the knight – glancing back to notice that, despite all the laughter ringing around him, he had his eyes firmly trained onto her. Smiling softly. Glancing away awkwardly as soon as he saw her watching him.

And she remembered Barry's words. Words that felt an eternity away.

_Poor lad fancies you, you know. _

Nova paused and gently pried herself away from Barry. She moved towards the knight, bowed before him, and felt her own skin prickle with heat as she asked, "May I have a dance, Sir Lucas?"

Lucas's brows shot up. "You know how to dance?"

"Well, no, I can't dance, but-"

"Nonsense," Lucas quickly cut in. "You're Lady Vernia's daughter. Of course you can dance."

Nova took a deep breath. Lucas waited patiently, his hand outstretched, a faint smile on his lips as she finally slipped her fingers onto his palm.

Her dancing was even more horrendous with only the rain as music.

Lucas stepped forward, and Nova tripped as she tried to match the single step. They minced around the mud, Nova focusing on not stepping on his toes, Lucas moving with quiet grace. Nova was _glad _that other villagers were inside their homes, out of the rain – she was sure that they all would have laughed once they knew she was Lady Vernia's daughter.

"Stop thinking," Lucas muttered, pulling her into a spin that ended with her pressed against him. "The steps don't matter. Just close your eyes and listen to the rain."

Nova scowled and opened her mouth to swear at him. Lucas saw it coming and quickly spun her again, laughing as her words were drowned out.

Finally, when she was close enough for him to hear, Nova took a long breath.

"Look after Barry for me," she said softly. "I know you've been doing a fine job so far, and thank you for that, but once I'm gone, I need you to…"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going back to Twinleaf."

Lucas spun her again, but his eyes were wide as she came back into his arms. "Why?"

"I have to look after my mother."

"But your name…"

Nova shook her head. "I will change it one day. Once Queen Cynthia decides to show up again, or maybe when they appoint a new king or queen. But, for now, I need to go back home."

"You're not going to even watch Barry at the Veilstone Colosseum?"

Nova had forgotten about the dancing, and realised her body was acting without her mind, sweeping over the mud as if she had done it dozens of times before. For a long moment, she said nothing, lost in the rain and dance, lost in Lucas's beautifully blue eyes, spinning around and around.

Finally, Lucas pulled her into one last spin. They stood there, frozen in time, their hearts thrumming from the dance and more. The knight offered a tiny smile, leaned down, and pressed his mouth against Nova's ear.

"Maylene only hosts four legionary trials during the gladiator season," he whispered. "So, a lot of gladiators fight all at once. The gladiators are split into two groups – a red team and blue team – and it's a fight to the death. Once one team has no survivors remaining that haven't surrendered, the other team wins. We go from having thousands of gladiators to only a few hundred – sometimes, even a few dozen. It depends on how many surrender."

"… Shit."

"Aye. Shit."

Nova pulled herself away, but held firmly onto his tunic. "What about Barry? Hundreds of gladiators around him, and the lad won't even know if the person beside him is wearing red or freaking blue!"

"It would help if he had a friend beside him, aye?" Lucas mused.

"…_touché…"_

Nova cursed.

Oh, Arceus, how could she let Barry do _that_?

"Oi!" Barry was calling out. "Are you two talking 'bout me, or are you kissing already? It's getting harder and harder to tell."

Lucas grinned as he nudged Nova away from him.

"I'm not asking you to do anything," he said. "I'm merely stating facts."

Nova could only stare as he moved away from her and towards Barry, as her shadow chuckled at her stunned face.

"…_see? i told you he was a pest…"_

* * *

Though the rain had stopped by the time they had reached Veilstone, Nova couldn't help but feel as if she was still trapped in thunder.

There were gladiators and townsfolk _everywhere_, so many that their steps alone made the stone paths tremble beneath her feet. Their houses were so _different _compared to Hearthome; each home was made of wooden beams that held up white blankets as roofs, each one was buzzing with muddy children in sleek but simple tunics, each one had almost no space between neighbours.

Then, there was the colosseum.

It was huge – and, according to the whispering of gladiators around her, it could fit twenty _thousand _people. And yet, the stalls and bleachers were completely packed by townsfolk who had arrived a day early to secure themselves seats – just so that they could see the blood and glory from the front row.

Nova wished Lucas had come with them inside Veilstone. Instead, the poor knight had wished them a quick farewell before running to his next station – promising that he would be there to watch their legionary battle. Meanwhile, it was her job to roll her eyes as they passed by stall after stall of merchants selling salted meats and wines while she told Barry about the sandstone walls and granite peaks that made the colosseum.

Their Pokémon – five of Nova's, three of Barry's – stayed around them. Trying not to flinch at all the stares that came their way.

"Do I hear children?" Barry asked.

Nova sighed. "Aye. There are people walkin' into the colosseum, with their kids on their shoulders."

"…_nothing like bringing the family to a nice afternoon of slaughter…"_

As Nova and Barry moved around the colosseum, a voice cried out behind them. They whirled around, only to find themselves facing Legionary Maylene.

"November!" she called out. "Or should I say Lady Dawn?"

Without the Meditite mask, she seemed even _younger _to Nova – she hardly reached her nose, her hair _actually _looked like a nest made of pink hay, and her face was so small and sweet. Even her _voice _was bright and chirpy as she said, "I've been looking forward to seeing you, Nova! And, oh my, you don't happen to be Barry of Twinleaf, do you?"

Barry grinned. "The one and only."

"No. Way."

"Actually, you're right, I believe there was another lad I met in Jubilife who was named Barry-"

Before he could finish, Maylene had thrown her arms around them both, hugging them so tightly that Nova realised that, by Arceus, she _was _strong.

"I've been so excited to have you two battle in my colosseum!" she rattled on.

Nova squirmed out of Maylene's arm, frowning.

That was _not_ happening. By the shadows, she would be _mad _to let Barry fight in the colosseum.

"About that, Maylene," she said, "I-"

"Don't worry," the legionary cut in. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and I'm one step ahead. I'll make sure you're both on the same team. Tell me: red or blue? I'm thinking red. It's more… fierce. Angry. Imagine it: the Twinleaf Twins single-handedly slay the Bastards in Blue, bathed in red!"

"Maylene, it's just that-"

"It's just perfect!" Barry chimed in. "Bloody hell, can we also add somethin' about us making the sands red, too, aye?"

Maylene clapped her hands, laughing. "Oh, aye! It'll be like Cynthia against Duke Rowan!"

And though Nova had to admit that she was honoured that Legionary Maylene cared so much for herself and Barry, she couldn't help but scowl.

It was hopeless. Barry was set on the legionary battle. And Maylene, too, wasn't making it any easier to convince him otherwise.

As Barry and Maylene continued bouncing off one another with their ridiculous plans, Nova's gaze wandered off to where the crowd lingered. Standing there were some of the legionaries – smiling as they greeted the townsfolk, offering kisses on their hands.

Among them – though he was certainly not kissing any hands – was Volkner.

"Prince Volkner is here?" Nova said – partly to herself, partly to Darkrai, and partly to Maylene.

Maylene shrugged. "That arsehole? I'd ignore him."

But it was too late – Volkner had already found Nova's gaze, and was strolling towards them, brows furrowed.

_Oh, shit, shit, shit- _

"I've seen you somewhere," he said curtly. "Where?"

"…_tch. not even a simple hello..."_

Nova ignored the hissing shadow and blinked slowly at the prince.

She couldn't possibly mention Twinleaf to him. If he remembered that she was the one who had spat in his face…

"The Spring Dance, probably," Nova finally answered.

Volkner frowned. "I don't go to the Spring Dances."

"Oh?" Maylene butted in, snorting. "But you once did, did you not? How else did you-"

"Shut up, Maylene. Legionary's oath."

Maylene narrowed her eyes and scowled, jabbing a finger into his chest as she hissed, "You shouldn't even be a legionary or a prince. If poor Roark had his royalty taken away, even though he did nothing wrong, when it was _you_ who-"

"Shut _up_, Maylene."

Maylene didn't back down, even as Volkner felt for the sword in his belt. "You're lucky Queen Cynthia is your sister, _and _a generous one in that. Otherwise, you and your patron would have been-"

Volkner held out his hand to silence her, but his eyes had found Barry. The boy who wasn't making any eye contact. The boy whose arms were linked with Nova. The boy whose gaze was so blank and distant that he could only be-

"You're from Twinleaf," the prince suddenly said. "You two are the crips."

Nova felt her guts churn, felt her face simmer as she met Volkner's eyes. "Say that again, you bastard, and I will-"

"You'll _what_?"

Nova was met with a blade of steel as Volkner stepped forward, and as she staggered back, the prince twirled behind her, smashing her across the back of the head with the flat of his blade. Barry's cry rang in her skull, the whole world blurring into two as her legs were knocked out from beneath her and she fell to the stone floor. Her Pokémon shrieked, ready to attack, ready to rip at the prince, but Maylene was already hurling out a Pokéball, and out came a Medicham – holding up a wall of pink, stopping the Pokémon from racing to their gladiator's side.

"Volkner, _stop_!" Maylene demanded.

But Volkner only stood above Nova, blade poised to strike.

"I will not tolerate disrespect," he said coolly.

Nova's cheeks were spotted with rage. _She _was the one that had taken on Frazer the Onix. _She _was the one that had saved Legionary Gardenia from turning into dust.

And now, she lay on her belly like a whipped Shinx, hate boiling in her chest, the edges of her shadows rippling. With Darkrai eating her fear, she wanted nothing more than to stretch out and tear Volkner's arm off, or press her own diamond blade to his throat, or spit in his face again.

"…_no, november…" _

And that's when Nova realised that people were staring – gladiators and townsfolk and legionaries alike. Roark and Candice were rushing towards them, the sea of people parting just for them.

"Volkner," Candice snapped. "This is Maylene's territory. You listen to her, and she demanded that you stop."

The prince didn't move. He just stared at Nova – hate and rage like fire in their eyes.

"Really, Roark?" Volkner said suddenly. "These two _crips _managed to earn your legionary crystal?"

"Leave them be," Roark answered. "Don't you dare put a hand on her, Volkner."

And so, with a final roll of his eyes, Volkner pulled his sword back, spun on his heel, and – for the second time – left Nova lying in the dust.

"Don't mind him," Maylene said softly, crouching down to wipe the sweat from Nova's brow. "The lad can't keep his hands to himself."

"Nor can he keep his belt on his britches," Roark added. "Come, Nova and Barry. Let's show you the inns."

The two legionaries led the way, with Candice only steps behind them, scowling as Roark and Maylene linked arms. Nova let Barry loop his own arm around her, though she didn't walk until the Medicham released her Pokémon from the pink wall he had made with his hands.

When they finally did start following the legionaries, Barry sighed.

"Well, that was odd," he said.

Nova couldn't help it – she snickered. "Aye. It was."

"Say, do you think these inns feed well? I feel like I could eat a whole Steelix."

"_Really_, Barry?"

"Okay, nay, you're right. It'd break me teeth."

"…_nice to finally see him thinking something through…"_

Nova shook her head, exasperated, as Tric pulled out the armour from her bag and tried biting into it – only to have the rest of her Pokémon join in to see if it would break their teeth, too.

"You're insufferable."

And, as the words fell from her mouth, she knew that she wasn't just saying it to Barry – but for the five Pokémon and the single Darkrai following her around, too.

* * *

**See? As promised, I had some mercy on you for Christmas – no death, **_**and **_**Barry returned! I told you I'm not a malicious troll. I mean, Volkner wasn't exactly in the Christmas spirit, but that's fine. We can forgive him. **

**As we wrap up the year, I just want to say a massive thank you to all my readers. To everyone who has followed or favourited or reviewed this story: thank you. I mean it. I honestly feel so giddy every time I read one of your mad theories, or hear your thoughts about the characters. **

**This story is definitely ambitious. I've done some crazy things here. And, for you to click on this story and continue to read it… well, let's just say that I honestly was not expecting any more than five followers. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It means the world to me that some of you have lasted this long, and I can't wait to continue this journey with you! **

**Merry Christmas to those that celebrate it, and for those that don't, Happy Holidays! And brace yourselves, because the first chapter of 2020 will have Nova properly telling us – in her own words – her reason for wanting to change her name. In the chapter after that, ****we have our legionary battle. **

**After all, let's kickstart our 2020 with a bang, aye? **


	25. Chapter XXIV

**Chapter XXIV**

The thing about gladiators is that townfolk _adored _them – especially the ones who were notorious for bloody battles against the legionaries. In the Veilstone inns that were made especially for gladiators, even the lads and lasses serving the stew in the dining chambers were bickering over who would be lucky enough to serve the big hulk from Canalave, or the handsome young man from Snowpoint.

Except, of course, when it came to November of Twinleaf.

"One potato? _That's_ all?" Nova asked the lanky little lad who had spooned the stew into her bowl. "The lout before me got four potatoes!"

The boy snarled. "That _lout_, you say, is actually Eldritch of Canalave! Have some respect!"

"Besides," a cool voice added from behind Nova, "I'm not sure your stomach can handle real food in the first place, no?"

It was Volkner. Just the sound of his voice had been enough to make her hairs stand on end, to make Nova wish she still had her new diamond sword tucked into her belt. Worse yet, all her Pokémon had been left in her chambers, supposedly resting but, in all truth, were probably fighting over who would battle with Nova in the morning.

Which meant that Nova was alone with Volkner, surrounded by gladiators and servants and legionaries, only a chuckling shadow with her.

So, the young gladiator did what she did best.

"That's rich coming from someone who probably eats bollocks every day," she said with a snort.

Volkner glared down at her. "Excuse me, I am a _prince_."

"Oh, beg yer pardon. Perhaps pickled bollocks, then?"

"You are a filthy little-"

Nova scowled at him before he could even finish. "What did I bloody do to you? Do you live to plague my arse just because I spat in your face when you were in Twinleaf? If that's the case, just spit in my eye and we'll be done with it, aye?"

F or a moment, the prince eyed her silently. Both the servants serving the stew and the gladiators awaiting the stew were watching them, ready for the blood, ready for the order to send the crip back to where she belonged.

But Prince Volkner only lowered his voice and whispered, "You said my sister beat my rump in a fight."

"What?"

"You told me that I lost to my own sister in battle. But you were wrong. We never fought. I was cast out of the games before they would let me fight Duke Rowan, and if I _had _fought him before my sister, _I _would have been the king."

Nova blinked slowly.

"That's it? You're taking me potatoes away because I got some bloody politics wrong?"

There was no glimmer of amusement in Volkner's eyes. Instead, with his face a mottled red, the prince snatched the bowl away from the gladiator and handed it to the next gladiator in line.

"Yes," he said curtly. "And your disrespect has cost you all your potatoes."

"Oh, you motherstinking son of a-"

Strong arms wrapped around Nova's waist before she could claw at Volkner's face.

"Leave the prince be," the knight told Nova, dragging her away, wincing as she slammed her boots onto his metal ones and tried to rip free. And yet, the knight didn't budge, nor did he so much as flinch as Nova threw her head back into his helm.

"Let me go, shithole," Nova hissed. "Let me _go_."

The knight said nothing to her, even as he dragged her all the way across the dining chambers. And finally, when they were far from the prince and the potatoes, the knight grabbed Nova by the shoulders and spun her around to face him.

"Really, Nova?" the knight said. "I go away for a few hours and, not only do you rile up a prince, but when I try to help, you call me a shithole? Again?"

Nova instantly stopped trying to punch the knight through his metal armour.

"Lucas?"

"Aye."

She reached out to rub the spot between his eyes, where she had left a small purple mark from trying to scratch his eyes out. Then, she frowned again.

"Why did you stop me? The bastard took my potatoes!"

Lucas rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Forget the potatoes. _Look_."

He gestured over to the nearest table, where Barry was seated and scooping away at his stew – a stew that was packed with carrots and potatoes and broccoli and vegetables that Nova had never dreamed existed. And, beside him, was a full plate of stew. Steaming, hot stew with _plenty _of potatoes. Waiting for her.

"Knight privileges," Lucas murmured, his grin ever so smug as Nova stared and stared.

And when she was done staring, she turned to the knight and shook her head.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

He snorted. "I believe you stole a Chimchar from Duke Rowan."

The poor knight had expected another snarky quip in return, or even a nudge to his ribs.

He _certainly _hadn't expected the gladiator to stand on her toes and plant a short, brief kiss on that same, bruised spot between his eyes.

But then, she was off as if nothing had happened, racing for the stew that so patiently awaited her.

Because, no matter how much a lad tried, nothing could impress November of Twinleaf more than a full bowl of potato stew.

* * *

Nova and Barry hadn't had many gladiators sit on their table to begin with – no one really _wanted _to sit with them. But, with over a hundred gladiators being shoved in the same dining chambers, they had little choice. Some walking lump of a man had grunted as he sat on the bench and nearly rocked Barry off, and another lankier one with the prettiest face Nova had ever seen came along, winking and grinning at Nova – even going as far to ask where her sleeping chambers were.

Then Legionary Maylene came along, skipping past every damned table until she found her two favourite gladiators.

"So," Maylene said, plopping herself across from Nova and Barry, "I hear from Roark that you only want to change your name, November?"

With her mouth full, the gladiator mumbled, "Aye."

"Why?"

Nova nearly choked. She felt Barry reach for her hand beneath the table.

"Don't worry about it," Nova quickly said.

Maylene's eyes narrowed. "I certainly want to know now."

It took everything the gladiator had to swallow down the mouthful of stew. It took more than everything she had to push out the images from her head – of the two knights, of the torn scraps of her tunic falling into the sand, or the bruises and the pain-

"She prefers August," Barry told Maylene, turning to nod at his friend. "Right, Gussy?"

"…_gussy? really?..." _

Nova ignored the Darkrai. She even ignored her best friend.

Because all she saw was the blood. The way they had touched her. The way they had kicked Barry aside when he had tried to help her, the way they had beaten him bloody, the way they had called him that filthy word-

_Always forget. _

"There's gotta be more," the gladiator beside Maylene – the one with the pretty face – said.

Even the bigger man beside him was frowning. "Aye. It's just a good ol' name, ain't it?"

"Drop it," Barry said to them – softly, but firmly.

But the one with the pretty face was already laughing, standing up from his seat to call out, "You hear this, fellas? The Twinleaf lass – _November _– doesn't want to be here. She just wants to change her name, but won't even tell us why!"

Barry stood up, too, clutching the table as he hissed, "That's because it's none of your business, arsehole."

"…_most of them have had at least seven cups of ale. everything is their business…" _

And the Darkrai was right. The entire dining chambers were already chanting the name _November_, hooting about it, their voices grating at her ears.

"Why're you changing your name, lass?"

"_November_. It don't sound _too _bad."

"You reckon her mother knows about it?"

"Shut up!" Barry snapped. "All of you!"

There was no shutting the hundreds of gladiators, though.

"It _does _sound pretty bad. Say it. _November_."

"Who the hell names their daughter November of all things?"

_November, November, November._

It was everywhere. Both around her and in her head. The knights touching her, feeling for her, pulling at her hair-

_Always forget. Always forget. Always fucking- _

"Are you alright, Nova?" Maylene was asking, leaning across the table to touch Nova on the cheek.

A metal hand pressed down on Nova's shoulder, and she heard Lucas whisper, "Come on, Nova, let's go."

And so, like a coward, she stood. She ignored Maylene and her questioning gaze. She tried stepping away from the bench, her stew still in her hands, the words of the gladiators still ringing in her ears.

"November. I wouldn't bloody become a gladiator _just _to change my name," another one was saying.

The lad with the pretty face laughed. "Wait, I have it! She wants to change her name because her mother was a whore!"

And, without a single word of warning, Nova smashed the bowl onto the table.

Glass shattered beneath her fingers, and hot chunks of potato and stew dribbled down to her elbows. But, apart from the tinkling of the glass shards and the few whispers across the chambers, there was no sound.

"You want to know why I want to change my name?"

Barry sank back onto the bench. "Nova, you don't…"

His friend cut him off with her own voice.

"Five years ago, some knights came into Twinleaf," Nova said – and though she wasn't yelling, her words carried themselves across the room, reaching every damned person as she added, "It was my thirteenth birthday, and I wanted to ask them if I was old enough to become a knight, too. Barry – the blind boy that you all have been laughing about – came with me."

The whispers had stopped by then. Every single pair of eyes had their gazes locked onto Nova, onto the red threads in her eyes and the snarl on her lips.

"The knights asked me for my name, right? So I told them. November. And after I told them, they tried touching me. They tried taking my clothes off and-"

She had to pause, then, if only to blink away the tears from her eyes and push down the lump in her throat. Even the legionary had her hand to her face, wiping the snot from her nose.

"Oh, Nova…" Maylene whispered. "I'm sorry…"

But Nova wasn't done.

Her eyes slowly found every gladiator in the room. One by one. Staring each of them dead in the eye until they withered under her gaze.

"Barry tried saving me," she told them all. "But the knights were too strong. They started kicking _him _instead of me. They kicked him over and over again, and… and while they hurt him, they kept calling him a fucking _crip_. Again and again. And they wouldn't stop calling him that until they made him call himself that. A fucking _crip_."

The blind gladiator had bowed his head, sniffling ever so quietly to himself. Lucas, behind her, had taken a sharp breath, his hand sliding down her shoulder as he watched her – tears already burning in his own eyes. And, from the corner of her eye, Nova could have sworn that there was a flicker of pity in Prince Volkner's eyes.

But she didn't want his pity. She didn't want to stop and let herself cry.

No.

She wasn't going to let herself break in front of these bastards.

"And when they tried to touch me again, they didn't call _me _a crip," she said slowly. "Do you know what they said to me, instead? Do you know what they fucking called me?"

At first, no one dared to answer. No one dared to even take a loud breath.

Finally, across the chambers, a woman mumbled, "Did they call you _bitch_?"

"Or maybe _whore_?" another one offered.

Nova laughed – a cold, hard, and pained laugh.

"They didn't call me bitch," she answered. "They didn't even call me whore."

She leaned closer across the table, her eyes on no one but everyone all at once.

"They called me fucking _November_."

And, as she stormed out of the chambers, her two closest friends trailed after her. The second they had reached her chambers, all three of them – Lucas, Barry and Nova – were holding each other, crying and laughing as Nova's Pokémon tried to squeeze their way in between them.

While they all stood there, linked together by their arms and more, Nova heard her shadow whisper in her ears.

"…_care for a confession, nova?..." _

Nova said nothing. She just smiled as Lucas wiped the tears from her eyes, as Barry sobbed into her chest. And, as subtly as she could, she nodded her head.

"…_i had never given you nightmares while you were in twinleaf. i don't ever give nightmares to those in twinleaf. their lives are already nightmares…" _

Nova frowned at that.

She had had nightmares, certainly. Many times. More times than she could have counted.

"…_all those nightmares you had? they were created by none other than yourself…"_

"Oh."

"Oh?" Lucas repeated.

Nova nearly swore. She needed to learn how to keep that bloody mouth of hers shut whenever Darkrai spoke to her.

Instead, though, she nodded. "Oh, as in, I realised something."

"What?"

The gladiator ran her hand through Barry's hair and squirmed herself out of his arms. Then, she planted a soft kiss on his hand.

"I realised that our legionary battle is tomorrow," she said. "And we are going to kick some arse."

"Right," Barry mumbled. "We're gonna kick their arses until their faces go bloody orange. Say, is orange the colour of me scarf?"

Nova smiled as he toyed at the pink scarf around his neck. "No. Try again tomorrow."

"Aw, man, I thought I had it. Orange. The colour of… er… what is it again?"

"A warm afternoon."

Lucas arched his brow, adding, "A shy smile."

"Holding hands with someone."

"Stepping on dry leaves."

"Well, what about hot porridge-"

Barry laughed. "The two of you are the biggest bloody sops in the world."

And, as they laughed, Nova almost felt guilty. Almost felt her heart ache at the thought of Bebe and Joy and her mother, who was probably already back in Twinleaf.

But, with a reassuring smile from Lucas and a final hug from Barry, she decided one thing.

She would fight in this bloody legionary battle to keep Barry alive.

Did it have anything to do with the Darkrai in her shadow, eating away her fear as she thought about the hundreds of gladiators with months – maybe years – of experience and training in their belts?

Well, readers and writers, some would argue that it doesn't really matter.

After all, regardless of how she decided it, November of Twinleaf was about to fight for her third legionary crystal.

* * *

**I was initially going to include the legionary crystal fight in here, but I wanted Nova's story to have its own chapter. Hence, it is short. Hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless! **

**Oh, and Happy New Year! **


	26. Chapter XXV

**Chapter XXV**

The crowd was like thunder.

Their screams echoed along the sweat-slicked walls, forced the stone around Nova to shudder. The tremor of their applause and the constant banging of their feet was enough to make dust drift down from the wooden beams, to make the entire colosseum rumble.

Nova felt her skin crawl at the sound of it.

She stood on her side of the arena – surrounded by other gladiators with the same red ribbon around their arms, staring at the bloodied sand, a gnawing emptiness in her stomach from where the Darkrai sucked away her fear.

"…_care for some advice?..." _

Nova glanced to her side, where Barry was murmuring something to his Staravia. Tightening her grip on Owl the Shellos and Bailey the Staravia, she nodded curtly at the shadow. "Aye?"

"…_don't get killed…"_

"Sound advice."

The other gladiators around her seemed too nervous to care about the girl talking to herself. Some looked like they were ready to spew the stew from last night, some were pacing back and forth, some were running their hands over their armour.

The idiots of the group, she had seen, chugged ale in the morning – to chase away the fear.

But the smart ones – the ones with the expensive armour, the ones with the sharpest swords and fiercest fires in their eyes – had only spent their morning sizing up their competition. Eating only what they needed. Tossing the ale aside.

Nova knew that those ones were the ones to watch out for.

In the pen, sealed behind iron bars, Nova looked back at the crowd that swayed and rolled like water. At the sands smudged red. At the blistering sunlight.

And, as she caught sight of the gladiators with their blue ribbons, she took a long breath and reminded herself.

There were only two rules.

Don't sleep with your patron.

Don't kill your patron.

The rest of the assholes?

They were fair game.

Nova pulled the helm over her head, fingers brushing against the crest of scarlet horsehair, against her shield and the clear sword in her belt. There was no armour allowed in these games – it became too hard to tell who was dead, and who was dying.

"Townsfolk of Veilstone!" Maylene was calling out, her voice hardly reaching the bellowing crowd. "The hour has come! The first of the Veilstone Games is about to begin! But first, it's time for Medicham to reveal today's arena…"

Owl and Bailey joined Nova as she moved towards the bars, as she peered through them and gasped.

The Medicham beside Maylene, in the centre of the arena, had pink light dancing from its hands. And, as the crowd cheered louder, the sands seemed to churn and roll until it split.

Then, the tower rose.

A tower made of wood, ribboned with scarlet banners, a battering ram and two catapults across from it. All of it so real that, as Legionary Maylene slapped the wooden tower, the echo of it rung out.

"The Medicham was hiding the props from us…" one of the gladiators breathed out beside her.

Maylene grinned as trumpets blared, as her Medicham retreated back to her side.

"The red gladiators control the tower, and the blue gladiators have control over the catapults to begin," she told the crowd. "It shall be a battle to the death – the first team with all gladiators surrendered or dead shall be the loser. Of course, there is one exception."

Barry tilted his head, and Nova yanked him and his Staravia closer beside her, hoping desperately that he would be able to hear the legionary above all the yelling.

"If a gladiator manages to break past my Medicham's barrier and has _me _at bladepoint," Maylene said, "then all gladiators who are alive in the arena – regardless of team – will win a legionary crystal."

"Can't we just all work together to take down Maylene? Screw red and blue and just… fight together?" Barry asked.

Another gladiator snorted beside him. "They've tried it before. Lots of times. _Nothing _can get past Medicham's barrier. It's a fucking wall."

That, it was. Soon enough, Maylene was back in her corner of the arena, her Medicham's hands outstretched as pink light shuddered around them. An impenetrable, pink wall.

"Now, march forward, gladiators! Get in position!"

The cell doors were swung open as gladiators shoved each other onto the arena. And, as her allies clamoured around her, Nova clung onto Barry and stared at the tower. At the tower that belonged to her team.

And realised she had no fucking idea what to do.

"Guard the walls, for fuck's sake!" someone cried out.

Nova ignored the orders. Instead, she tugged Barry behind her and scrambled up the ladder, finding them a spot on one of the towers where there lay a quiver of arrows and a single bow.

"You can shoot, right?" she asked Barry. "Arrows? Like we did against Meryl and Ulysses near Jubilife?"

Barry nodded. "I have me Staravia to help me."

"And my Shellos."

"I don't need-"

Nova cut off his protest with a hiss. "I know. But_ I _need Shellos here with you. For my own sake."

Her friend said nothing. He only felt for the bow and slung a quiver over his shoulders. Nova squeezed his hand as he took it.

"Never fear," she whispered. "We will not die here. I swear it."

Barry grinned. "You assume I fear death."

From the corner of Nova's eye, she saw the other legionaries; Fantina in her golden gown with her nephew – Roark – beside her, Volkner in his robe, Candice blowing a kiss at Maylene, some big hulk of a man screaming the loudest – his shoulders burning red since he had decided not to wear a tunic.

"And now, _begin_!"

The crowd roared before Nova even moved.

And, suddenly, the blue gladiators were pushing forwards – swords and shields raised, fire and fear in their eyes. The poor red gladiators on the walls could only raise their shields in response, their eyes darting furiously, searching for some sort of instruction-

"Does anyone have any history as a knight or something?" Nova cried out to the other red gladiators.

Silence – and a few shrugs – answered her.

But then, Barry tilted his head and listened to his Staravia, who muttered something in his ear. Then, he stepped forward.

"Anyone with a bow and arrow, fire on the troops that are running for us now!" he cried out. "Me patron is a bloody knight and has told me all about this sort of thing. Any flying Pokémon should be sent forward to swoop and distract. I need a few of you – at least four – to be ready at the gate of the tower, for when they use the battering ram! Go in pairs, keep yer shields up, and yer arses together, hear?"

Nova couldn't believe that was her best friend calling out the instructions. She couldn't believe that this boy – with a fierce, booming voice, radiating an aura she had never felt before – was the same boy she had grown up with.

"Who the hell are _you_ to tell us what to do?" one of the gladiators snapped.

Nova snarled at them. "Oh, aye, do you have a better plan?"

Yet again, silence.

"Then get your arses moving!"

Barry nocked his arrow, already hurling it forwards. Both Bailey and his Staravia were off, and soon, Nova realised that _she _had to be Barry's eyes.

"Battering ram!" she yelled out. "It's coming! Shoot a bit more to the left!"

"Aye, and go tell the others to brace the doors!"

The blue troops rushed forwards, the battering ram between them, and though Nova helped Barry aim his arrows, it was no use – there were dozens of them lining the rams, and even as they fell by the second, there were enough of them to keep it moving, to keep it rumbling straight for the walls of their tower.

The wood shook from the impact, and Nova caught sight of one of the blue troops' Pokémon – a fucking Ponyta, of all things – spurting fire at the wall, too. There was a boom – an explosion that rocked her off her feet – bright and red and swelling with fire.

Instantly, the red troops that had been protecting the doors were nothing but blood on the sand.

But that's not what caught Nova's eye.

Oh, no – what caught her eye was far worse.

For, as the ram struck their tower another time, Nova saw the two Staravia – her and Barry's – crying out through the smoke. She saw the blue troops at the catapults aim up – aim a ballista in the sky and-

One of the Staravias was struck, falling to the sand below, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch, its neck twisted the wrong way, steel and wood in its chest-

_Bailey. _

Not even the Darkrai in her guts could stop the pain from slicing through Nova's guts as she saw the Staravia. The blood. The agony on its face.

_No, no, no, no-_

Not her Bailey. Not the stupid but fierce bird that couldn't fly straight. Not the stupid but sweet bird that had started off with a broken wing that was still angled all funny-

_No._

"Watch Barry," Nova ordered her Shellos. "Spit mud at anyone who is blue."

Barry frowned. "Nova, what happened? Where are you-"

The girl was already dropping her shield and twisting away, shoving her way down the ladder, darting through the rolling smoke.

"…_to your left…" _

Nova wasn't even thinking as she heard Darkrai in her ears. With the image of the Staravia burning in her mind, she ripped her sword out and struck to her left – sending a man dropping to the ground and howling as the blade sliced at his thigh.

Another gladiator – a woman, this time – was racing for Nova, who ducked and slipped her sword right into her foe's shoulder.

Blood splattered Nova's lips and, behind her, that damned Ponyta was setting off another burst of fire. The tower was ablaze, and Barry had already dropped his bow beside him. With the Shellos on his shoulder spitting water at the flames, the boy was striking out with his sword, charging along the wall and putting his sword right through some man's belly.

But he was okay for now.

_But Bailey-_

She moved away from the fire – away from the gladiators – and towards the corner of the arena, where she had seen the Staravia fall. And, as she saw the feathers and the blood, heard the weak cries, she fell to her knees and found the bird.

It wasn't right. Even with the twisted talons at the bloodied beak, the way it looked at her – desperation, pain, agony…

The Staravia didn't try reaching for her when she came close.

And Bailey _always _liked touching her.

Which meant-

_You're not Bailey. You're-_

Sure enough, Nova felt a shadow fall on her as yet another Staravia swooped down and sat on her head. Cawing sadly. Its wing angled slightly to the left, as if it had just recovered from being broken.

"Bailey, _you're_ okay," Nova said to the Staravia on her helm. "And this poor thing is _Barry's_ Staravia…"

She shouldn't have felt the relief she did to know that Bailey was okay.

And yet, the relief was nothing against the pain she felt in her heart as she realised that Barry's Staravia was dying and he had no idea about it. He would never say his final words to his precious little bird.

"Barry…"

The words hadn't come from her mouth.

They had come from the Staravia lying on the ground. Its beak was open, and blood dribbled down as it, once again, cawed, "Barry…"

Nova froze. Felt her heart stop.

_Barry's Staravia could speak? _

"You want Barry?" Nova asked it.

The Staravia closed her eyes. "Barry…"

"…_i'm no mind reader, but my guess is yes…" _

"Oh, shut yer smart arse," Nova snapped at her shadow. "We have to bring Barry to him. We have to."

"…_you are in the middle of a bloodbath…" _

"Well, no thanks to you-"

Bailey, on her head, cried out.

Nova didn't see the man rush towards her until it was too late. There he was, his spear raised, and before she could think clearly, she was slashing with her sword.

She had wanted to strike his leg. His arm.

But, instead, she had tripped forward. Come too close.

And sliced his belly wide, spilling guts across her boots as he fell screaming.

Nova wanted to vomit. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream.

_But Barry and his poor Staravia- _

And so, she stood there and stared at the dead man before her. At the life she had taken.

She let the Darkrai rip away her fear, let him rip away all the pain and agony.

And let herself calculate.

She was not the best fighter. Her sword-arm needed work. Her shield was long forgotten in the tower. Her Shellos was still with Barry.

But Barry's Staravia was counting on her.

And if there was one thing she had done better than all the gladiators around her, it was clawing her way through rubbish.

Nova looked at the face of the man she had killed, his face sealed behind his helm. And, ripping away the red ribbon from her arm, she tore at his blue ribbon and knotted it across her elbow. Then, with bile in her throat, she shoved her hand into his guts and pulled out a streaming handful of whatever was inside.

It was filthy. It was gross. It was enough to make her eyes water.

But she had grown up in garbage that was just as bad. She had crawled through corpses of Pokémon and humans alike just to find supper. She had pressed down guts and blood when she had been helping Joy with her healing.

She could and _would_ do this.

_For Barry and his Staravia._

Nova smeared the blood down her neck and chest, slapped the torn guts against her own belly, and, with her Staravia on her helm and her sword dangling from her hand, she walked.

To the crowd, she looked like a dead girl walking. A few of the blue troops saw her blue ribbon and shot her a look of pity, but they were too busy saving their own arses to care about the girl who was staggering across the sand, blood and guts dripping down to her feet.

Nova stumbled, just to sell it better, and gasped which each step. She was so close – so damned close – to the men with the catapults. And, as one of them glanced at her, she recognised him.

It was the pretty boy who had sat at her table the night before. The one who had called her mother a whore.

"Wait a minute," he said, taking a sharp breath.

But there were no minutes left for him.

Nova and Bailey came to life, and the girl slung a handful of the guts into his face, plunging her sword into his chest.

Forgetting the blood. Forgetting the regret.

_For Barry. For his Staravia. _

Staravia, too, had gutted his Machoke – and the poor Pokémon's blood sprayed across the sand as it fell with a cry. The last man and his Riolu stumbled back, but Bailey had snatched up the small Pokémon with his talons and sent it flying like the iron balls in the catapults.

"Riolu! No!"

His blade moved towards Nova, but she smashed it aside – left, right, left – and, with a final flash, the blade dug its way into his heart.

Forgetting the blood. Forgetting the regret.

_For Barry. For his Staravia. _

The crowd would have noticed, by then, something was amiss. While there was a bloody battle at the tower itself, they found their eyes moving towards the thin girl, drenched in red, not running where all the gladiators were – but running towards Maylene and her Medicham.

A giant Machoke had tried to stop her, but Bailey's wings burned bright and struck its leg. Then, as it stumbled, Nova grabbed its head and-

"…_arrow to your left…"_

-and swivelled so that the arrow dug into the Machoke's heart, rather than her own.

Forgetting the blood. Forgetting the regret.

_For Barry. For his Staravia. _

Bailey had gone on ahead, twisting around until he sliced a Machop right along the chest and sent it sprawling into the sand. The woman with the Machop staggered, hurling a sword towards Nova, but screaming as Bailey's gust of wind sent the blade flying away.

And, with the crowd and pulse and thunder of it all in her ears, Nova raised her sword.

Forgetting the blood. Forgetting the regret.

_For Barry. For his Staravia. _

"Please, no," the woman begged. "I'm on the blue team, too…"

She was silenced by Nova's sword.

And Nova's heart was silenced by the Darkrai in her shadow, who was eating and eating at the fear, at the remorse, at the guilt, as they reached Maylene's barrier.

The crowd roared. Hysterical. Pointing at the girl who had left the battlefield to rip through Maylene's wall.

"Darkrai," Nova suddenly said. "When you made the sword black in Solaceon, it went straight through my hand. If we do that again, do you think the sword will go straight through the barrier?"

"…_why would you think that?..."_

"You said it yourself. Shadows can't hurt anyone."

"…_clever girl…"_

And so, with the smoke above her, Nova watched as Darkrai left her shadow and entered her sword. Turned it as black as ink.

All of a sudden, she felt the fear squeeze at her insides. Felt it rip through her. Felt her knees buckle as she thought of all the lives she had taken, all the blood she had spilt.

But still, she tossed the black sword forwards. Watched as it soared towards the pink barrier, towards the Medicham, and slipped straight through it.

Maylene stumbled back as the sword landed by her feet. And, in that second, Nova saw the Medicham hesitate. Saw the pink light falter for just a second.

That second was her chance. Her opportunity.

And Nova took it.

The crowd howled as Bailey sprang onto the Medicham, drilling his beak into its face, blood staining his face as he drove the psychic type into the sand. Scratching at its shoulders for good measure.

Meanwhile, Nova threw herself at Maylene – clinging onto the legionary's back as the two of them tumbled onto the sand. Maylene's blade cut at Nova's arm, blood arcing onto both of them, but the gladiator had launched a kick right into small girl's stomach – sending the legionary rolling off her.

"Nova?" Maylene was asking, her eyes wide as she recognised the gladiator's steel-blue gaze. "Is that you?"

Nova didn't answer. She just winced from the pain in her arm, took a sigh of relief as Darkrai slipped back into her shadow and drank up all the fear, and wearily plucked her sword – now as clear as day – from the sand.

And, slowly, Nova swung the sword towards the legionary's throat, the crowd finally shutting their mouths, the fight behind her halted as all gladiators watched her blade move closer and closer until-

Maylene raised her hands in surrender. Even had the courage to smile.

"And all gladiators – blue and red team alike – if they are breathing, they have now earned themselves a legionary crystal."

The crowd bellowed in answer, trumpets splitting the air. The legionaries watched her – mostly frowning, except that one big man without the tunic who was up on his feet and cheering wildly. Lucas, too, was in the front row – horror but a flash of bemusement in his eyes as he clapped. And, smeared in blood, clasping her forearm, Nova pushed her sword back into her belt and limped towards the other gladiators. Towards the slaughter, where corpses with red and blue ribbons were dead by dozen.

And, amongst them, was Barry's Staravia.

Nova moved towards her best friend, who had dropped his sword and was laughing aloud. Beside him was Owl – no longer a Shellos, but a blue-green Gastrodon.

"Barry?" she called out.

He was battered and burnt, a small cut near his temple, but he was laughing as he threw his arms out towards her.

"You should have seen Owl!" he was saying. "One second, she's spitting mud from me shoulder, then she gets bloody _heavy_ and we're falling because she's suddenly really _big_, and because of that, I think a bunch of arrows went just over our heads-"

He froze when Nova stiffened in his arms. As the single Staravia above them cawed sadly.

And though she hadn't said a damned thing, Nova just _knew _that he knew.

* * *

Many gladiators had lost their Pokémon. Many Pokémon had lost their gladiators – amongst them was a Magikarp named Thaddeus that Nova had decided to adopt. She, Bailey the Staravia, Owl the Gastrodon, and the damned Magikarp, stood beside her best friend and his dying Staravia.

"I'm sorry, Star…" Barry was whispering. "You've been a good girl."

The Staravia purred. "Barry…"

And that was the bird's last word.

Barry ducked his head and sobbed, and Nova touched his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she told him.

He only shook his head. "It's okay. I've already had this talk with them. We all knew this could happen."

"And yet, you still choose this path? To be a gladiator?"

"Because we _want _to. Because these Pokémon _wanted _to be legends. They _wanted _to fight." He lowered his voice to a whisper, smiling as his friend squeezed his hand while he added, "They didn't want to go any other way. _I _wouldn't want to go any other way."

"But…"

Barry held up his hand. "We all die, Nova. But I would take this over rotting in a cot all day."

"…_not even a very nice cot with plenty of pillows?…"_

"Can you please shut up, Darkrai?" Nova hissed.

"…_not usually, no…" _

Barry tilted his head, frowning. "What was that you said about Darkrai?"

"…_aye, nova, what was that you said about darkrai?..." _

If Darkrai hadn't been the one who had helped her only minutes ago with the Madicham's barrier, Nova may have considered calling out her shadow for being full of shit. Instead, though, she turned back to her friend.

"Your Staravia could say your name," she pointed out. "How?"

Barry shrugged. "I realised that Pokémon can make lots of sounds with their mouths. It's like, bloody hell, it's like learning another language for them. I thought maybe I could teach them a few words, and Star was my best at learning…"

He went quiet again, bowing his head and feeling for his Starvia's bloody feathers. Nova was ready to gather the Magikarp, Staravia, and Gastrodon towards her and leave him be when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"What the fuck was _that_, Nova?" Maylene demanded, spinning the gladiator around to face her. "Roark told me you could hardly hurt a Kricketot! You were… you were a bloody beast out there! I didn't even recognise you! And changing the ribbon on your arm? Fucking _brilliant_! I've never killed a lad or a lass, Nova, but to see you do it without even _thinking_…"

Nova winced, her bleeding arm screaming as Maylene shook her. And, suddenly, from down on the sand, Barry cleared his throat.

"She did it so that I could see my Staravia before she died," he said. "She did it for me."

The trumpets blared, silver and bright behind them. The sand shuddered as gladiators roamed around the arena, kicking down the last of the tower, ripping their helms off and roaring.

And, as the crowd went absolutely mad, Legionary Maylene went silent. Looked at the dead Staravia. At the tears streaming down the boy's face. At the pain in Nova's eyes.

"You did that just for your friend?" she asked quietly.

Nova only had to nod once.

Suddenly, Maylene grabbed Nova by the elbow, turned her around so that she was facing the deafening crowd, and raised the gladiator's hand high in the air.

"What is her name?" she cried out.

Silence.

For none of them really knew her name. Not yet.

Maylene nodded thoughtfully. Raised Nova's bleeding hand in the air again.

"Her name is November! November of Twinleaf!"

There was another beat of silence – a silence that felt even more shallow than the one before.

Then, a little boy cried out, "November!"

And so did his father. And the family beside him. And the family beside that family. And the bloody merchant who had sold sweetmeats to that family.

And soon, the whole arena.

"What is her name?" Maylene repeated.

"November!" they roared.

"_What is her name?" _

Hands clapping. Feet stomping. Their voices slicing through the air.

"_November! November! November! November!" _

Nova glanced down at her friend who, through his tears, was smiling. She glanced back at her Staravia and Gastrodon, who were nodding at her – proud of her, even though they had seen everything she had done. She glanced up at Lucas, who was staring down at Barry – pity and hurt in his eyes. Not far behind him was Meryl – the small girl from Jubilife – winking down at her. Even the old crone was in the back of the crowd, hooting louder than anyone else.

"_November! November! November! November!" _

She thought about Bebe, whisking around in a glittering ballroom, her tinkling laughter in the air. She thought about Joy, cradling her dead sister and crying. She thought about her mother, squeezing her hands as she warned her about her bastard of a father – warning her about breathing in hope.

Finally, Nova's gaze found Volkner. The only man in the entire arena who was still sitting.

"_November! November! November! November!" _

She remembered how he had forced her to wither before him only a day ago. She remembered how he had snatched away her stew. She remembered how he had stepped on what had been her birthday cake.

And she blew him a kiss.

"_November! November! November! November!" _

In that second, with her name ringing around her – a name she had hated as much as the knights who had taken it away from her – Nova couldn't help but smile. Hell, she even laughed.

For she would never, _ever_ let them see her break.

* * *

**You want a song for this chapter? I'll give you a song for this chapter. Try 'Unstoppable' by Hidden Citizens. **

**And so, we have legionary crystal number three. Not to toot my own horns, but I just… really like the way this chapter echoes the last chapter. I hope you like it, too!**

**Catch of the chapter: **

**Thaddeus the Magikarp, named after Thaddeus from Fever by Dee Shulman (which also involves gladiators but is also possibly one of the cringiest books I have ever read in my life). **


	27. Chapter XXVI

**Chapter XXVI**

That same night, after the legionary battle, Nova, Lucas and Barry stood towards the edge of Veilstone, their heads bowed as they finished burying Barry's Staravia.

All three of them had cried. Even all their Pokémon were there, silently staring at the dirt, their hearts in their throats.

Nova's head still spun from it all. From the way little children had come running to her after the battle, telling her how bloody _wicked _she had been, all the way to the sight of the bodies _she _had killed with her own sword.

Worse yet, as she bowed her head and felt for the bandages Lucas had wrapped around her bloodied arm, she _saw_.

She saw herself and Barry near Jubilife, swearing as they dodged the arrows that Meryl and Ulysses – as well as that blasted Abra – had been aiming at her.

She saw herself, hands intertwined with Lucas, spinning and laughing in the rain.

She saw herself in the Veilstone Colosseum, stumbling across the sand, her sword as black as ink as she hurled it past Medicham's barrier.

And, finally, she saw Meryl. She saw the young, pink-haired girl cheer as Nova's name thundered across the colosseum. She saw the girl rush away from the hordes of people, chasing after Nova and Barry, waving desperately.

She saw a man with a Murkrow mask snatch Meryl into the air and drag her away, the girl's screams muffled by his gloved hand. She saw him leading her towards some alley, towards a door with a golden circle painted on it, silent even though Meryl tried to bite his fingers.

It was exactly like the vision she had seen in Eterna, but with different images – some she recognised, some she didn't.

Then, they were gone, leaving her clutching onto her roiling stomach.

_Oh, Arceus… _

Nova glanced up, but no one seemed to have noticed a damned thing. They were all focused on Barry and the grave, on comforting each other.

So, the gladiator stumbled away, fighting back the pain in her heart.

The second she was out of sight, she turned to glare at her own shadow.

"Did you do that?" she hissed.

_"…do what?..."_

Nova rubbed her temples, the images there but not there, so damned close but so damned far. "That… thing. I saw these moments in my head. I saw Meryl… I saw myself."

_"…you think i would be cruel enough to give you a nightmare?..." _

"Aye?"

Her shadow rippled. _"…you're foolish, then. i can't give you nightmares if you aren't sleeping…" _

"Then what was it? A vision of the bloody past?"

_"…clever girl…" _

And yet, even though he sounded as bored as ever, Nova heard that familiar hiss to his voice – the hiss that usually meant that she was bloody _right_.

Because, of course she was right. Of _course_. How had she not noticed it before? The visions she had in Eterna – dancing with a masked man, slamming down a bowl of potato stew, crying as Lucas held her…

Bloody hell, they had come true. Not all of them – not yet. But more than enough.

"Nova?" a voice called out behind her – Lucas's voice. "Are you okay?"

Nova didn't hesitate. She just looked her friend dead in the eye and shook her head. "Meryl is in trouble."

"Meryl? As in, one of the twins from Jubilife? She's _here_?"

"Aye. And she's in trouble."

"How do you know?"

The gladiator winced a little. "I… If I tell you, you can't call me mad, aye?"

"Aye."

A deep breath. A mental roll of her eyes as her shadow snorted.

"I had a vision."

Lucas's lip curled. "You had a vision?"

_"…aye, he thinks you're mad…" _

"I had it before, okay?" Nova insisted. "I had one in Eterna. The same sort of thing, but it showed me different things. And, Arceus, Lucas, they came _true_. I saw myself dancing with a masked man, and then, in Hearthome, I danced with Sir Riley! Bloody hell – the potato stew! I had seen myself slam it down on the table, and then it bloody happened in the inns just _last night_."

_"…must you always bring it back to the potatoes?..." _

Nova ignored her shadow and stepped towards Lucas, holding him by the collar. "I saw you and me dancing in the rain – something that had already happened. And then, I saw Meryl watching the gladiator battle and… she was taken, Lucas. I know it. You _have _to believe me."

The knight looked at her for a long time, rubbing the back of his head. Finally, he sighed.

"Do you remember who took her?" he asked. "Or, at least, where they took her?"

She described it for him – the golden circle on the door, the alley, the Murkrow mask.

And, this time, Lucas swore.

"_Now _I definitely believe you," he told her. "I know where that is. It sounds like the place where my father trained all his physicians. Let's go."

Nova felt like she was inhaling relief. Then, she frowned. "What do you mean _now_? You didn't believe me before?"

"Of course not. You sounded batshit mad."

_"…i told you…" _

"Shithole," Nova muttered, reaching out to punch the knight.

He caught her fist, pulled her close, and smiled softly. "I was going to say it later, but I'm proud of you, Nova. That legionary battle… what you did for Barry was very brave. I was really-"

"You fancy me, don't you?"

The gladiator said it so abruptly – so bluntly – that Lucas couldn't help but laugh as led her forwards. "You're making it harder and harder not to, Nova."

"And why wouldn't you want to?"

"Now isn't the time. We need to go find Meryl."

"It's because I smell like piss, isn't it?"

"Nova, _everyone _smells like piss."

_"…ah, finally, he speaks some truth…" _

* * *

To the Galactic Healers, the air in their healing dungeons tasted like hell.

It was supper time, and they could hear the bells pealing to urge them into the dining chambers. But one – a lad named Saturn – lingered behind, breathing in the charred meat, the blood and guts, the herbal pastes, and the sweet smell of gold that wafted from the pink-haired girl in his arms.

She wasn't hurt – not yet. She wasn't even bound to anything, which, he knew, was incredibly dangerous. But, bloody hell, he didn't know where Mars or Jupiter had left that blasted red chain, and he couldn't even call out for them. He just had to wait, by the cots of Pokémon who were withered and weak from all the testing that had been done on them, the small girl held tight in his arms.

He _could _call out for someone by asking one of his Pokémon to summon them, but he was patient. His fellow healers deserved their supper – with all that was to come, he knew there wouldn't be much free time for anyone.

Especially now that he had one of the twins.

Seconds passed. Minutes passed. And he was sure an hour had been about to pass when he heard footsteps.

_Finally_.

He turned towards the staircase, as grey and cold as the rest of the room, and froze as the air shivered around him. A shadow leaked down the stairs first – a shadow like no shape he had ever seen before, and as he watched, a Luxio flung out from the darkness and threw him to the floor.

His hand slipped from the girl's mouth, just in time for him to hear her mutter, "November's here…"

_November. _

He recognised the name. It was of that gladiator – the one he had watched just before. The one who had sliced down gladiators and Pokémon alike, the not a single hint of fear in her eyes.

_Oh, shit. _

He couldn't call out with his voice. But he _could _call out in many, many other ways.

Saturn raised his knee to his chest, kicking the Luxio off before it had the chance to bite into him. Then, staggering to his feet, he tore his Pokéball from his belt and threw out his Toxicroak.

The Toxicroak glanced at the Luxio, at the knight and gladiator darting down the steps, and turned back to his owner.

Saturn shook his head. Pointed at his mask. Pointed towards the dining chambers.

The Toxicroak nodded in understanding. Then, it shrieked.

Seconds passed – and, this time, only seconds passed.

For it only took seconds for the rest of the Galactic Healers to come running, weapons drawn, aimed at the intruders.

* * *

Nova saw fear blanch Lucas's face as four Galactic Healers rushed out from behind Meryl and the man, Pokémon trailing behind them. She felt her own heart tighten – not with fear, but with pity, as she glanced at Meryl's wide-eyes, at the row of cots filled with whimpering Pokémon.

Lucas's Clefable was already standing with her Luxio, waving her hands as Lucas called out something about a _metronome. _Then, stars came raining out of her hands, leaving black smoke curling in the air.

"Get Meryl," Lucas said – already locked in knight form; eyes sharp, shoulders taut, his voice demanding. "I'll handle the healers."

Nova rushed forwards, towards Meryl, her blade connecting with the shoulder of one of the healers who stood in her way – slicing down his arm, the healer's eyes wide in surprise as he stumbled down onto the charred floors, blood licking at his face. Then, as she landed a kick into some Stunky that darted near her, she called for Rhys the Luxio.

He sprung, then, as quick as a spirit. In one second, he was hurling a bolt of electricity at some Beautifly, then he was plunging his claws into a Croagunk's belly, sending both of the Pokémon collapsing onto the floor. Cold and merciless. Cold and empty.

And Nova felt that same emptiness as she sliced at some healer's legs, sending him to the stone in a spray of red, darting aside as a blade cut its way towards her – missed, and went straight through the heart of the healer behind her.

_"…your right…" _

Nova levelled her blade to the right, blood dripping from the razored edge, and saw the healer blanch as she knocked aside his spear. Rhys dashed straight into him, sending him tumbling over the railing of a cot.

The man who held onto Meryl had his eyes fixed on her, his Toxicroak hovering beside him. Then, stretching out her sword, she flicked off his mask.

He had a nice face, she decided. Pale, with blue hair falling into his eyes. And, as she stepped closer, he tilted his head and smiled.

"Release her," Nova demanded.

His brow creased. And, from his belt, he pulled out a little black board. A little stick of chalk. And wrote two letters.

Nova blinked, dumbfounded. "I can't read."

_"…i can…" _

"Then what does it-"

The boy hurled Meryl to the side and punched Nova, sending her lurching sideways onto a cot with some poor Psyduck. Something heavy fell onto her shoulder, and she fell back on the railing, gasping, arms flailing as she tried to stand up, as she saw the blue-haired boy grab Meryl and dart back.

_"…if you haven't already guessed, he said no…" _

Rhys and the Toxicroak were rolling along the floor, pinwheeling down the stairs, electricity billowing around them, growling and hissing.

Then, a blade flashed, bright and gleaming in the dwindling light as someone grabbed the blue-haired healer by the cloak. Lucas held his sword to the healer's throat, his Clefable frowning beside him.

"Release her," Lucas hissed. "Release her, and I release you. And, if you want that Toxicroak of yours to live another day, I suggest you take me up on your offer because that Luxio is a murderous bastard."

Nova heard the Toxicroak cry out in pain from down the stairs, heard her Luxio snort.

And, finally, the healer threw Meryl away from him.

She grunted as her jaw hit the stone floor with a horrible, sickening crunch. Nova forced herself to leap out of the cot, to race to Meryl's side, when suddenly, she heard Lucas cry out.

He was gasping as he fell to the ground, clutching his jaw, blood slipping out from his mouth.

Stranger yet, the healer had done nothing to him. He was just staring as the knight released him, staring as Lucas fell to his knees.

Then, the healer was running down the stairs – just as Rhys was rushing up the stairs at the sound of Nova's desperate call.

"Look after Meryl," she told the Luxio. "I need to- _Lucas_!"

She raced to the knight's side, hands on his face, lifting his eyes towards hers. He was holding onto his jaw – a jaw that wasn't even bruised – grunting and swearing and hissing in pain. And, even though the Darkrai was eating it away, Nova felt the fear settle in her heart – twist and wrench at it until it _hurt_.

"Lucas," Nova said again, cupping his face, holding him tight. "What happened? Where are you hurt? Oh, Arceus, please-"

_"…nova…" _

The girl snapped at her shadow, "Not now."

_"…look at meryl. then look at lucas again…" _

And so, reluctantly, Nova turned away from the knight as she held him close. Turned back to the small girl who was guarded by her Luxio. Glanced again at the boy whose face was buried into the crook of her neck, whose Clefable was desperately trying to catch a glimpse of its owner.

_"…they're both holding onto their jaw…" _

The Darkrai was right. But before Nova could demand an explanation, she saw the Abra.

It looked at her and Lucas. Smiled. Then, it moved towards Meryl, touched her jaw gently as Rhys and Clefable stepped back, and healed away the bruise.

Lucas sighed in Nova's arms – a sigh of relief.

And, just like that, Meryl and the Abra were gone, disappearing in a single blink of blue light.

"By the shitting shadows…"

Lucas stirred, mumbling something to her, and Nova eased herself away – not daring to release his hands.

"Are you alright?" she asked him. "You… what the hell happened?"

The knight rubbed his jaw and frowned. "Don't worry, I'm-"

"I'm bloody worrying, so you better tell me what the shit just happened. Meryl is gone with her Abra. The healers – the ones who are awake, anyways – have run downstairs. We have time."

He smiled at her, then. Even moved to wipe the tear from her eye – a tear she hadn't realised was there.

"You're going to call me mad," he told her.

"Try me."

He shook his head, exasperated. "When Meryl fell down and hit her jaw, I _felt _it. And it hurt like hell, by Arceus. But the second the Abra came and healed her, the pain was gone."

"Really?"

"You believe me, don't you?"

Nova snorted. "Well, you do sound batshit mad."

"_Nova_-"

"Of course I believe you, nonce," she cut in, hauling him onto his feet. "Do we follow the healers? Chase them down the stairs?"

Rhys the Luxio perked up at that, and the Clefable reached out and smacked him.

Lucas laughed quietly. "Let's go to my chambers in the inn. I'm sure that healer – the one with blue hair – went to go call more. I'll need more knights if I want to plan an arrest, and I have no intention of dealing with my father now."

And so, they left. Not knowing that Saturn was still lingering at the bottom of the stairs. His own eyes shining as he wrote something on his little chalkboard.

_"I've found the heart of gold."_

* * *

"So, can we talk about why you don't wanna fancy me?" Nova asked. "If it has nothing to do with smelling like piss, then is it because I curse a lot?"

Lucas leaned back against his wall, arching his brow at the gladiator sprawled across his bed and the two Pokémon snoring beside her. "Nova, I do not want to talk about this now."

Nova couldn't help but bite back a smile as she saw his flushed cheeks. Maybe, if she hadn't seen him groaning in pain only minutes ago, she would have pressed it further – out of sheer curiosity _and _to piss him off. Instead, though, she sat up on the bed and frowned.

"Fine. Let's talk about Volkner," she said. "Maylene hates him, too, I think. Why?"

"Oh, _Volkner_." Lucas grinned. "He was ruled out of the Gladiator Games, you know. He broke one of the two rules."

"He killed his patron?"

Lucas shook his head. "The other one."

"He _slept _with his patron?"

"Aye."

"And what does that have to do with Maylene?"

This time, the knight gestured to his room; it was completely bare, apart from his bag of armour near the door, the bucket of water that was washing away the blood from their blades, and the small bed where his friend, her Luxio, and his Clefable slept. "At the time, Maylene was a little girl who tidied the rooms for the legionaries. She was the one who first found out that he broke the rule."

"How?"

"She walked in and saw the action for herself."

Nova choked, and Lucas laughed as she said, "Poor girl."

_"…poor girl? i wouldn't be so sure. i would consider it free entertainment…" _

"Poor girl, indeed," Lucas said to the gladiator. "And poor Volkner, because Maylene tattled to Duke Rowan. When Queen Cynthia found out, she liked her honesty so much that she immediately blessed Maylene as a champion of Sinnoh – which makes her a legionary. Volkner has given her hell ever since, and so she gives him hell back."

If Nova hadn't already liked Maylene before, she _certainly _liked her now.

"Good on her," she said. "_Now _can you tell me why you don't wanna fancy me?"

"Oh, bloody hell-"

Nova laughed as Lucas's words were muffled by the pillow she threw at him. Then, she saw him pick the swords out of the bucket of water and toss them to the side.

She was certainly not laughing when he raised said bucket of water towards her.

"Oh, shit."

She raced out of the room, Lucas hot on her heels, both of them laughing like absolute idiots as gladiators barged out of their rooms to tell them to shut up. They ran and ran, cursing at each other's mothers, flipping through door after door until they were in the bare dining chambers. Nova rushed towards the serving tables, where she spied tubs of ale lying there, when Lucas caught her by the waist.

Then, before she could rip herself free, he was swinging the bucket towards her, grinning as water slipped down her face, as she swore at him and swore some more when water fell into her mouth.

"Are you done?" she asked him when he finally stepped back to admire her utterly drenched hair and face.

"Aye," he said. "Wait, actually…"

He stepped closer and tipped the final bit of water onto her head.

"Shithole."

"_Now _I'm done."

But then, Nova was snatching the tub of ale from behind her, and with one swing, Lucas was just as drenched as her – grabbing her in a headlock, trying desperately to snatch the tub of her, only to have her pour the rest onto _both _of them.

It was about then that they realised that there were eight more tubs of ale lying on the table.

Surely, readers and writers, I don't need to tell you what happened next. But it sounded a lot like:

"Put the tub of ale down, Nova, or I swear to Arceus-"

"Take _that_, shithole!"

A splash. A curse. A laugh.

"Oh, you bloody asked for it-"

More splashing. More cursing.

And laughter that echoed in their ears for the rest of the night.

* * *

It almost felt wrong to laugh as Nova found herself lying down in the filthy – and completely _drenched _in ale – dining chambers, Lucas shaking his head at her as she yanked him down beside her.

So much had happened in the past few days and weeks. So much.

But it felt _good _to laugh. It felt _good _to be soft again. The last time she had been in these dining chambers, she had been speaking to all the gladiators about her name. Now, with Lucas beside her, she only felt safe. Content. Warm, even though her skin was cold from the ale and water.

The knight reached out and moved her hair out of her face. "Nova, I want to tell you something."

"Funny that. I want to tell you something, too."

"Ladies first."

Nova grinned. "You first, then?"

"You're horrible to me, fair maiden."

"Well, if you're gonna whine about me, I may as well go first," the gladiator pointed out. "Do you remember what I told everyone last night? In these chambers? About the knights?"

Lucas frowned. "Aye?"

"I didn't say the whole story. The knights were stopped, you know. Sir Riley – he was only a wee little lad back then – saved me."

"Aye."

Nova turned to face him and his narrowed eyes. "I don't know how close you and Sir Riley are, but if you see him, I want you to make sure he doesn't ever find out that I was that girl he saved."

"Why not?"

"I don't want him to remember me as that girl he had to save. That weak little lass from Twinleaf."

Lucas propped up onto his elbows, staring down at her, his mouth a thin line. "Nova, you were _not-_"

"_Please_."

"Then why tell me?" he demanded. "Why tell all the other gladiators about it if you don't want to be seen as _that lass_?"

Nova rolled her eyes. "Because it's different. They're just gladiators. Sir Riley is-"

"A knight?" he cut in. "I'm a knight. What about me?"

"Don't be like that, Lucas. You're different," Nova pointed out. "Going to Sir Riley is like going to the queen and saying woe is me."

"And what's so different about the queen?"

"She's the bloody queen – that's what's different!"

Lucas sat up, then, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. "She's still a person, Nova. She's still human, and so is Sir Riley."

"Yer point?"

"My point is that you always talk about how bloody unfair your life is, and yet, you go around treating people unfairly, too."

Nova forced herself to stand, too, scowling. "Oh, so just because I don't want to say woe is me to the future king of Sinnoh, _I _am unfair?"

"Yes! Because you don't treat him like he's a person! Maybe he'd _want _to know, and maybe-"

"I don't want him to see me as _pathetic_, okay?" Nova snapped. "I don't want him to see Twinleaf as pathetic because of _me_!"

Lucas froze. Stared at her for a long time.

Then, he pulled her by her wrist, his face so damned close to her own that if she only stood on her toes and inched forwards-

"Never call yourself pathetic again, you hear?" he said quietly, his breath hot upon her face. "All your tattoos and scars and stories – they are who you are. Sir Riley would be an absolute shithole if he saw you as pathetic."

"It's not just that," Nova insisted. "I don't want him to see Barry become some grand gladiator, but only think about how he was the one to save him in the first place. I want him to remember Barry as just that grand gladiator."

"Then don't tell him about Barry. Tell him about _you_."

Nova only shook her head, her voice hardly a whisper as she added, "I don't know the type of lad Sir Riley is. What if, when he becomes the king, he blabbers it out to all of Sinnoh? All I can think about is the people in the colosseum today. All those kids who were cheering my name. I don't want all those kids to look at me and, I dunno, think of me as bloody garbage."

The knight reached out. Ran his hand down her bandaged arm. Left his fingers intertwined with hers.

"You really think that if those people out there learn about your past, they'll think you're garbage?" he asked.

"I _know _it."

"Then explain to me why I'm still quite madly in love with you even though I've seen everything."

The only sound Nova heard after that was her shadow, chuckling at her stunned face.

_"…oh my…" _

Nova stepped back. Stared into those blue eyes. Felt her stomach drop.

"You love me?"

Lucas was already turning away, though, leaving Nova to shiver in her wet clothes as he said, "I have to go. I need to find Duke Rowan and ask him about the pain I felt with Meryl."

"Wait," Nova quickly said. "You said you had something to tell me, aye?"

But he was already out of the dining chambers, the creaking of the swinging door the only answer for the poor gladiator.

_"…woe is me, aye?..." _

"Oh, shut up, Darkrai."

* * *

**Do I have anything to say about this chapter? Not really. I've taken a bit (a lot) of creative license by introducing Saturn this early, but it just… felt like the right thing to do. **

**We also won't be seeing Lucas for a while after this – sorry! Which is really weird for me to say because I'm writing ahead, so I'm already up to writing when Lucas returns in a few chapters. My gosh, I nearly uploaded Wake's Legionary battle now. **


	28. Chapter XXVII

**Chapter XXVII**

"He told me he loved me. And then he left."

"…_truly tragic…" _

"You're not helping me feel better."

"…_did you want me to?..." _

Nova grumbled as she sat up in her bed. She had ended up stealing a silken blouse and britches from Lucas's chambers since her clothes had been damp from water and ale, though she suspected he had left it there for her – after all, when she had made her way into his room, his armour, his Clefable, and his bag had all been gone. All that had been left was her Luxio, a dark blouse, and some britches, neatly folded on the bed.

Now, in her own room, with her Pokémon stirring beside her, Nova couldn't stop thinking about that damned knight.

She had asked him for a simple request to keep her story to himself. Why had he snapped like that?

And why did he have to mention that he _loved _her?

"I don't even know what love _is_," Nova pointed out. "And I haven't gotten any sleep because I couldn't stop thinking about everything he said. I think I'm going mad."

"…_well, you are talking to your own shadow. some say that is the first sign of madness…" _

Nova rolled her eyes. "Can you say something nice for once?"

"…_something nice for once…" _

"Very funny."

"…_i aim to please…"_

For a second, the gladiator wondered whether it was possible to smack her own shadow. "Aye, fine. You've been around since, what, forever, nay? Surely, you know what love looks like, Darkrai."

Her shadow went silent, considering it. Then, he sighed.

"…_i only know love from the perspective of fear…" _

"Fear?"

"…_there are some people who feel terrified, but are willing to fight all of that fear just for someone they love. just like you yesterday, for your friend and his staravia…" _

"You were _eating _my fear."

One of her Pokémon – Leila the Roselia – murmured in her sleep. But still, Nova didn't lower her voice. It was about time her champions knew about her shadow.

"…_aye, i was eating your fear. but what about in the chambers of the galactic healers? when your knight friend was in pain?..." _

"What about it?"

"…_you felt fear, did you not?..." _

Nova thought about it. She _had _felt fear – it had settled in her heart and twisted at it until it had hurt. "Did you stop eating my fear when we were there?"

"…_no. i did not stop eating your fear. you just had too much of it for me to take away…"_

The gladiator blinked back her surprise. She certainly hadn't thought _that _was possible.

"Do you think it's because I love him, too?"

"…_i don't know. i'm just a mere shadow. woe is me…" _

Nova didn't get the chance to retort. For, a second later, she heard a sharp rap on the door.

"Are ye decent?"

Most of her Pokémon jumped up at Barry's voice, except Owl the Gastrodon, who was snoring even as Nova called out, "Does it matter?"

"Well, nay," Barry answered, prying the door open, his Prinplup by his side. "I just wanted to make sure it was yer voice. I accidentally walked into some other lad's chambers on the way here, and he was in the middle of dressin', and he squealed like a wee babe. I told him I couldn't see a bloody thing, but he was still funny 'bout it."

"Lads are strange folk."

Barry sighed and felt his way to Nova's bed. "Right, what happened with you and Lucas?"

"Hm?"

"He comes into me room last night, smelling like _ale_, telling me that he ought ta' go find Duke Rowan," the gladiator explained. "Then, he tells me to bloody wait for him here so we can go to Pastoria together, and when I ask him if he's smooched ya yet – only as a jest – he just walks right out. And here you are, smelling like ale _and _Prinny here tells me that you're wearin' his clothes."

Nova laughed at that. "It's not…"

She stopped as she saw Barry reach out and touch her Staravia, the softest of smiles on his face.

"Hey," she said quietly. "How're you? After yesterday?"

Barry shrugged. "Kinda shitty. But sittin' around and feeling shitty won't make me feel any less shitty, so I'm gonna train more. If I make meself and me team stronger, we'll be able to protect each other."

"You're a wise one, Barry," Nova said, glancing down thoughtfully at her shadow. "Though, another wise, er, _thing_, once told me that it's okay to feel like shit for a while."

"…_a wise thing? thing? am i a thing to you, nova?..." _

Barry cocked his head to the side. "A thing?"

"Aye. Do you remember how I said somethin' about a Darkrai, yesterday?"

"Aye?"

Nova bit her lip and urged her Pokémon to come closer, rolling her eyes as Tric gently punched Owl awake. "All of you, I want you to meet Darkrai. Darkrai, say hello to Barry and my Pokémon."

Silence answered her. Barry frowned. "Nova, are you alr-"

"I'm fine," she quickly cut in, glaring down at the shadow pooled around her feet. "Darkrai, I know you heard me. Say hello."

Once again, the Pokémon and Barry alike dumbfoundedly stared at Nova as the silence thickened.

"Stop being a piece of shit and say hello, Darkrai."

Finally, a hiss.

"…_hello, darkrai…" _

Nova glanced up to see if everyone else had heard him. Sure enough, her Pokémon were staring down at the shadow – the shadow that was slowly moving away from her feet and forming the body and face of Darkrai.

"Who said that?" Barry asked, his hands outstretched, feeling for the wall, for his friend, for the shadow that his hand slid straight through. "Was that actually…?"

"Darkrai, aye," Nova answered. "I've been carrying him in my shadow since Solaceon."

Barry felt for the scarf on his neck. "Wait, so, you haven't been talking to yourself?"

"Of course not."

"Damn. Shit. Wow."

Nova laughed and turned to the Darkrai – who was no longer in her shadow, but in his regular form beside her, sighing as Rhys the Luxio tried to growl at him.

"Say, Darkrai," she started, "I was wondering if you could give Barry a dream?"

"…_you mean, a nightmare?..."_

She shook her head. "Nay, I mean a dream. Show him something. Something that he never gets to see, even when he's awake."

"…_perhaps…" _Darkrai reached out and touched Barry, and though his hand slid straight through the boy's body, the gladiator still shuddered. _"…what do you want to see, boy? your face? a pretty maiden's face?..." _

Barry opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Nay."

"…_ah, of course. You're one of those men. why see the face when you can see more, aye?..." _

This time, Barry flushed. "Nay, I don't care about what me face or Nova's face looks like. I wanna see… the sky."

"…_the sky?…" _

"The sky," Barry repeated. "I've always wanted to know what it looks like."

"…_just the sky?…"_

"Just the sky."

"…_i need you to sleep, then…" _

And though Rhys happily offered to throw bolts of electricity at him until he was out cold, they all decided that a bit of sleep powder from Leila's petals would be the most practical.

As the boy slept, Darkrai hovered over his body and let black mist swirl from his hands. It slipped over Barry's eyes, then curled back into the air, forming a sphere over his face – a sphere of black that Nova and all her Pokémon could see.

Soon enough, that black sphere showed them exactly what Barry was dreaming off.

It was just the sky – blue and dark, thick grey clouds moving slowly with the wind. Then, there was the sound of Starly chirping, and the horizon was smudged with reds and oranges and pinks. A single Staravia wheeled in slow lazy arcs, swooping and flying until the canvas of blue darkened with the dipping sun. The moon rose, silver against the black, and the stars shone like rugged diamonds sprinkled over ink.

Barry was sighing softly in his sleep, smiling every time the Staravia rushed through the clouds.

And Nova could only watch the Darkrai – the cold bastard who always mocked her. Who sometimes made her red with rage. Who, she was beginning to learn, was an absolute sop.

"Thank you," she whispered to him. "You never told me you were a softie."

"…_say that again, and i shall show him what is beneath that blouse of yours..." _

"Bastard."

"…_that's more like it…" _

It was then that Barry woke up, a grin stretched across his face – brighter than the sun Nova had seen in his dream.

"You see that _every day_?" he demanded. "That was bloody amazing! Oh, Nova, the clouds… they don't all look the same! And the sky! _That's _blue, aye? And there was the sun and, I think… I think I saw Staravia…"

Both Barry and Nova were nearly thrown off the edge of the bed as he tried tackling her into a hug. They held each other for a long while, remember the sun. The Staravia. The sky.

"Is that the colour of me scarf?" Barry suddenly whispered into her ear. "Blue?"

"Nay. Try again tomorrow."

Barry sighed. "One day, I'll get it. And one day, I've decided, I'm gonna fly in that sky."

"One day? Why not today?"

"Today?"

Nova grinned.

"Well," she said, "I've been thinking…"

"…_oh no…"_

* * *

Oh no, it was, indeed.

For Nova had decided that it would be possible for her Staravia to clutch onto one end of a rope with his talons, with Barry holding on for his dear life at the other end. Then, as Bailey flew around, Barry was swept up into the air, laughing but also squealing every time a leaf slipped into his mouth.

In all truth, it had been inspired after seeing Lucas's bizarre training methods. And so, as Nova watched Bailey fight through the battering wind and swerve around other bird Pokémon, she heard Barry's words from earlier ring in her ears.

_If I make meself and me team stronger, we'll be able to protect each other._

When it was Nova's turn to grasp onto the rope while Bailey hauled her into the air, she already had a place she wanted to go in mind. They flew over the colosseum, past the farms and mountains of hay in Solaceon, over the sandstone mansions and glittering ballrooms in Hearthome.

Then, just as they were about to reach her destination, Nova saw a pink-haired girl dragging her way through the grass. Clutching onto a Happiny. Gritting her teeth as she marched onwards, not pausing for anyone or anything.

_Joy?_

Dear readers and writers, it took me _months _to ease Joy into telling me her side of the story. She always insisted that it didn't matter. It wasn't, after all, _her _story.

However, just as I had been about to write some bullshit about how she had been oh, so close to joining a cult dedicated to something as ridiculous as the _weather_, Joy let me listen in to her thoughts after her sister's death.

Nothing like a bit of blackmail to do the trick, aye?

For the first few nights after the ball in Hearthome, she could only see Bebe. Her baby sister. Laughing. Singing. Scribbling words. Coming up with crazy new ideas about wind and energy and electricity.

But then, she started seeing Nova.

No matter where she went – no matter what she did – that blue-eyed gladiator seized her thoughts.

When she worked in the Hearthome inns for a few suns, townsfolk from all over Sinnoh were talking about the grand Veilstone Legionary – always repeating her name. November, November, November.

When she slipped past Lost Tower during the night, knights wouldn't stop babbling about how some crazy girl with long black hair had buried a little girl by the old kings and queens of Sinnoh – and how no one could do anything about it because of some nasty, old Golbat.

Then, near Hearthome, there were nobles talking about Lady Vernia's daughter – the girl who had been ready to fight Lady Fantina in a dress. The girl who was sponsored by Duke Rowan, Fantina's own father.

Then, near Oreburgh, there were villagers talking about the tamer of Frazer the Onix.

Then, near Eterna, some Song Sisters had passed by her and murmured something about the girl who saved Gardenia.

Then, she got to Floaroma. And she froze.

There were flowers – not only in the gardens, but _everywhere_. Outside homes. By the riverbanks. Every single patch of mud was blooming with white and pink and blue bells that were smiling at the morning sun. Leaves falling in perfect curves, ivy cascading over fences, willows weeping over the mud, daffodils rearing their golden grins into the light.

Those flowers hadn't been there before. And she knew _exactly_ who had planted them there.

"She did it," she whispered, tears slipping down her face and onto the flowers beneath her. "That crazy bitch actually did it."

And, spying from behind a little cottage, with her shadow chuckling beneath her, Nova and her Staravia smiled.

* * *

Nova and Bailey ended up flying home after that. However, later at night, once Barry was snoozing away soundly in his chambers, she and the Staravia were flying off again, the silver light of the moon dancing upon them.

And, once they arrived, they were greeted by an onslaught of hugs.

Not hugs from people, per say. But hugs from all the Pokémon that were living in Frazer the Onix's pits – a Geodude, Machop, Psyduck, Pachirisu, Bronzor, Ponyta, Wurmple, Chingling, Meditite, Bidoof, Buizel, and now, even a little Magikarp.

"Hello, my dears," she whispered. "How do ye do?"

Chirps. Cries. Complaints.

And, once again, Barry's words struck her.

_If I make meself and me team stronger, we'll be able to protect each other._

She made a pledge that night. A pledge to all of them.

"I'm going to come here every night, aye?" she told them. "Every bloody night, I'm coming here."

They nodded. Cheered. Ignored the Staravia's wince.

"And we're going to train."

* * *

Alas, when she wasn't sleeping, sparring with Barry, or training in Oreburgh, Nova was busy training with the five champions in the outskirts of Veilstone.

Or, at least, she was trying to.

"Seriously?" she asked, exasperated. "_None _of you want to battle Rhys?"

Rhys the Luxio raised his head, grinning. On the other side of the grass, the rest of her Pokémon shuddered and shrank back.

"You're all cowards. Don't make me choose."

Finally, it was Owl the Gastrodon who slowly inched forwards. She was trembling from head to toe – shy as always, ready to piss herself. And, still, she moved to face Rhys, swallowing down her fear, nodding her head.

Of course, when Rhys snorted and sent a bolt of electricity hurtling towards her, she flinched and cowered and-

They all stared in awe as the electricity fizzled out upon touching her. Not leaving a single scratch.

Rhys's eyes widened, and he hissed. Owl's face lit up, and she cocked her head to the side. Then, she spat some mud in the Luxio's face, sending him howling and darting back, his fangs bared.

Oh, he was _livid_.

Everyone else, on the other hand, cheered. Tric the Monferno even had the guts to stick his tongue out at the Luxio.

It was all going great until Leila the Roselia went to give her best friend a hug, and instead, found herself spilling petals all over the Gastrodon. Then, the Gastrodon was reeling back, and though Tric came to settle the two of them down, he ended up 'accidentally' setting one of Leila's flowers on fire.

Then, when Bailey flew down and plucked Tric into the air to stop him from setting off more fires, Rhys saw his chance and hurled some electricity towards the Monferno. He missed – hitting the poor Staravia instead – and chaos ensued.

By the end of it, it was Nova who had to settle them all down.

She blew out the fire on Leila's rose, and let Bailey sleep on her head again. Then, she moved over to Owl.

"That was very brave," she told the Gastrodon. "Even _I'm _scared of Rhys sometimes. You've grown so much."

The Gastrodon flushed a deep shade of crimson. Then, she promptly fainted – possibly due to her inability to take a compliment.

Nova moved to Rhys the Luxio next, who scowled at her. Nova scowled back at him. With that settled, he moved in for a reluctant hug and fell asleep right on her shoulder.

Which left Tric the Monferno, who was pouting as he put out the flames with a bucket of water. Once he was done, and Nova had placed her sleeping Pokémon on one side of the field, she turned to Tric and grinned.

"Say," she said, "I was just thinking about back when it was me and you, only."

Tric smiled softly.

"I never punished you for running to Duke Rowan for rescue when we thought Flint was gonna kill me, ya know."

The smile instantly fell from the Monferno's face as his trainer grinned and reached for her water flask.

"Payback time, Tricy."

The rest of the evening, she spent wrestling in the dirt with the Monferno, tumbling through mud and grass.

And though she was miles away from Twinleaf, she couldn't help but feel as if she was at home.

* * *

**Lots happened in the last two chapters, so I thought it was about time we ease back a little. Fair? Also, side note, this is chapter 27. I have just started writing chapter 34. I am writing chapters that will be published in March. This is... strange. **


	29. Chapter XXVIII

**Chapter XXVIII**

"Wake up."

Nova groaned upon hearing Barry's voice, upon feeling his hands pat down her face. "Wha-"

"Wake up."

"Barry, what-"

Her shadow rippled beneath her. _"…he said wake up…" _

"I heard him the first time."

"…_just making sure…" _

Barry grinned, gently patting the bed where he thought the shadow was (he was only a few centimetres off, really), adding, "We're going."

"Going?"

"Look at us." He gestured madly at his Prinplup who, in turn, gestured at the five Pokémon who were snoring along the rug. "We've been training for a week, and me muscles are _tired _from it, and Lucas still hasn't come back. I say we quit staying here like shittin' Psyducks and haul our own rumps to Pastoria."

"…_i believe the correct expression is sitting psyducks, not shitting psyducks…"_

Barry ignored the Darkrai. "What do ya say, Nova?"

Truth be told, she was _exhausted – _spending an hour every night flying to Oreburgh and back on top of all the training – both during the day and night – was pinching away her energy.

But there was something about Barry's voice – the way his words seemed to run over one another – that caught her attention.

Nova sat up on her bed and eyed him carefully – the smug grin, the hands that were twirling the scarf around in his fingers, the flush in his cheeks. Then, she said, "I say there's more you're not telling me."

"Fine. By Lake Valour, the pirates are holding a play."

"The pirates are holding a play," Nova repeated blankly.

Barry nodded.

"The _pirates_," she said again, "are holding a play."

"Aye?"

Nova threw her hands up in the air. "They're pirates! Shouldn't they, ya know, be doing pirate stuff?"

"We're gladiators from Twinleaf. Shouldn't we, ya know, be dead right now?"

"…_touché…"_

Nova bit back her smile, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

If her friend wanted to see a play held by pirates, she supposed it wouldn't hurt anyone. And, truth be told, she'd missed seeing his grin so bright, his cheeks so flushed. This was good for him.

"Fine, we'll go," Nova finally said.

"Great-"

Before Barry could finish, Nova threw her head back on her pillow. "After five more minutes of sleep."

"I hate you."

"Join the club."

"…_please don't. it's far too cramped right now. volkner is taking up the entire place…" _

* * *

Lake Valour was nothing short of stunning.

The water itself was clear as a mirror, and it was as if time had frozen; there was not a single ripple in the silver-blue lake. Even from the tall pines around the edges, there was no sound – no rustling of branches, no chirping of Starly.

And, sticking out from the water, was a mountain of steel.

Swords, shields, steel poles, bars of iron – all of it was heaped in a single pile that rose from beneath the water. There were even metal railings, chains, and hell, bloody pots and pans.

"It looks like they've all been stolen," Nova whispered to her Pokémon. They all nodded, save for Leila the Roselia, who was trying to describe the lake to Barry by using her rose-hands to draw on his back.

That's when Nova saw the men and women in Murkrow masks, patrolling near the lake, their Zubats and Croagunks lurking close by.

"Galactic Healers," Nova hissed. "Barry, we need to-"

Barry reached out and found her elbow, tugging her hard. "Nova, please don't start a fight now."

"But Barry, they might be the ones who killed Bebe and who nearly hurt Meryl-"

"_Please_," the boy insisted. "Can we please have fun? Just this once?"

And so, with a sigh, the gladiator let her friend drag her towards the small platform that was away from the lakes and closer to the fields that Nova had trained in over the past week. The pirates had already started their play, and – to Nova's amusement – only the male pirates were onstage, with some wearing long wigs, thin gowns, and raising their voices to sound like girls. All the female pirates were sitting by the front, smoke wheezing from their pipes, laughing and swearing at the men onstage.

Nova had never seen pirates before, and so, as they twirled their daggers onstage, she whispered to Barry – telling him about the swords dangling loosely from the belts, the men with stubbles along their chins, some that were bald and old, some that were missing fingers, some that had their skin kissed brown from the sun.

Then, she stopped to watch the play.

"Oh, my love! My love!" one of the pirates cried out – far too dramatically, really – twirling the long, blonde wig in his hands.

The other pirate scratched at his beard, clutching him tightly. "Please, you mustn't fret, my sweet! We must liketh the nigh. Without the dark, we'd nev'r seeth the stars."

"And so, the Pyroar hath fallen in loveth with the Flaafy…"

They inched closer to one another, and the audience of gladiators and townsfolk alike laughed as the hair from the wig flew into the other pirate's mouth.

"That Flaafy has no more brain than stone," the pirate choked out, ripping the hair out of his mouth. Then, with his hands running down his long dress, he added, "But I must look hence, hiding mine own eyes as I thrill'd to the w'rd!"

Then, he pulled out his dagger, and the pirates onstage all began to fight. It was like a dance – a beautiful, fiery, and quick dance with raised swords and daggers, with leaping and twirling and skipping.

The audience bellowed and roared as a pirate in a dress shoved his dagger into the stomach of another pirate. Blood spluttered out – splashing the audience's faces, cold and smelling like the Veilstone arenas.

"Holy shit," Nova said with a gasp, wiping the blood from her brow. "The actors… the pirates… I think one just killed the other!"

A hand squeezed her shoulder, and she turned to find a big man grinning at her – the same one she had seen with the other Veilstone legionaries, with no shirt veiling his red shoulders and rolls of fat along his belly.

"Don't worry, lass," he said to her. "'Tis all fake. That pirate has a bag o' Bibarel blood hidin' under his shirt."

"Bibarel blood?"

"…_pirates don't have class, nova. otherwise they would use kricketune blood…"_

The legionary, deaf to Darkrai's whispers, nodded. "Aye. We collect Bibarel blood 'n use it in our plays. Now, pardon me." He pulled out a wig from behind him – long and streaming blue, just like the satin gown he wore – and threw it over his head. "It's my turn."

He ran straight though the audience, shoving them all aside before leaping onto the stage – hands slapping down on his belly like a drumbeat as his fellow pirates cried out, "Crasher Wake!"

"Aye!" Wake answered. "I'm the tidal wave of power to wash you away!"

Then, he yanked out a sword from his belt and stabbed every other actor onstage – careful to angle his blade into their bellies, where the bags of Bibarel blood were waiting to burst beneath the tunics. Each actor held onto their stomachs, making awful grunting sounds as they clutched themselves and pretended to die.

When every other pirate was playing dead on the stage, choking back their laughter, Crasher Wake moved towards the front and grinned.

"The stage is my sea."

And the audience promptly burst into hysterics. All except for Nova and Barry, who were silent, jaw-dropped, as the 'dead pirates' stood back up, dug through their clothes for the emptied bags of blood, and threw it into the audience. Rhys the Luxio even managed to leap up and catch one of the bags, chasing around Leila the Roselia with the blood.

Nova was the first to speak. "That was…"

"Freaking glorious," Barry finished.

"…_if you mean, the strangest performance of the nigh is twigh, then yes…"_

"And now," Wake was saying, "I believe our next play shall be o' _The Dawn that Breaks_. Actors, in position-"

"_Wake_!"

The voice cracked through the wave of people, angry and demanding, and Nova watched in absolute awe as a woman made her way towards the stage – moving like a dart of pink in her gown.

One of the pirates onstage sighed. "Wake, yer missus is here again."

"Lady Spiral?" Wake asked. "Did she lose her keys again?"

The woman reached the stage, and – no surprise – some of the gladiators whistled at her. Wake's wife hardly seemed to notice; with her golden hair, her clear skin, and her startlingly purple eyes, Nova was sure that the poor woman was used to the hooting. Even after seeing the lump that was the woman's belly – no doubt carrying a baby – the gladiators still hooted her on.

"You're in big shits, Wake," she hissed at her husband. "You promised me that my butler would be safe from harm!"

Wake winced and glanced back at his pirates. "Sweets, I be in th' middle o' a play right now-"

"Oh, pardon me." With her lips stretched into a thin smile, she waved at the audience before turning back and ripping Wake's wig from his head. She tossed the hair onto the ground, stomped on it for good measure, then pinched her husband's ear. "_Now _let's go."

This time, when the gladiators and pirates alike cheered as Lady Spiral dragged her husband away, Nova joined in. In fact, she clapped the loudest.

"I like her a lot," she muttered down to her shadow.

"…_why doesn't that surprise me?…" _

* * *

While Barry's Prinplup and most of Nova's Pokémon rested in one of the Pastoria inns, the two gladiators and Tric the Monferno stood outside a mansion. They had somehow climbed over the creaky iron gates that had been flanked by rows and rows of golden honey trees, swaying gently in the wind. Then, following the winding stone path where ivy and ferns grew through the cracks, they found themselves sneaking around a marble fountain with its soft gurgling water, moving until they were standing by the mansion's windows with their ears pressed against the glass.

Yes, readers and writers, they were eavesdropping.

Tric the Monferno had followed Lady Spiral and Crasher Wake all the way to the Backlot Manor while Nova and Barry had booked themselves a chamber in the inn. Then, with Barry following the scent of Tric's smoke, they found themselves spying through the window – watching as Wake, Lady Spiral, and the lady's father sat for dinner.

"I knew my daughter shouldn't have married you!" Lord Backlot was crying out, slamming his hands down on the table. "You are not only a pirate, Crasher Wake, but a _murderer_!"

Crasher Wake, who was too busy gnawing on some bread to even glance up, frowned. "I be nay a murderer, by Arceus."

"You are going to kill my own butler!"

"Your butler broke th' rules! He sponsored a gladiator, 'n he was caught sleepin' wit' her. The rules of a legionary state that-"

Lady Spiral threw down her spoon, and Nova winced as she heard the sound of shattering plates. "Screw the rules! Wake, you promised me you would keep Oli and his gladiator safe."

"I was going to," Wake insisted. "But, Spiral, me love, someone spread th' word, 'n now everyone in Pastoria knows about wha' he did, 'n now they be _waitin' _fer the execution t' happen…"

"You promised!"

Nova and Barry both shuddered as they heard more tinkling of shattered glass, more yelling, more food falling onto the plush rugs.

"Hey!" Wake was crying out. "Don't pour that wine on me, Spiral! Pour it on the arse that tattled about it!"

Spiral dropped the bottle of wine and sagged into her chair, her hand on her belly. "Who would do that to Oli? To poor Roxy? They're so young… my youngest butler. He's hardly twenty! Oh, Arceus, if they die, our baby will never get to meet them…"

"Lady Spiral…"

Lord Backlot cleared his throat, saying, "You must choose, Wake. My daughter, or your position as legionary."

"What?"

"You either save our butler but lose your position, or you kill our butler and keep your position," Lord Backlot explained sharply. "You choose."

Wake scowled. "'Twas ye, ye arsehole, wasn't it? Ye wanted me t' make this decision!"

"That is besides the point."

"Arceus, ole scallywag, when will ye accept that yer daughter chose me – a motherstinkin' pirate – o'er whatever arsehole o' a suitor ye had fer her!"

"You seduced her!"

"Look at me! Look at her! Ye reckon _I _seduced _her_?"

Nova felt Darkrai laugh at that. She even saw Tric make a face.

"Enough," Lady Spiral called out. "Both of you, enough. Surely there is a way we can save them. Others have broken the same rule and survived. Prince Volkner, for example."

That caught Nova's attention. She pressed her ear further into the glass, hoping desperately that no one would yank away the curtains on the other side and see her spying.

"Volkner be the brother o' Queen Cynthia," Wake pointed out.

"But she wasn't queen yet!" Spiral countered.

"Aye, but Volkner's patron was th' moterstinkin' daughter of-"

Nova was so close to listening, so close to hearing who Volkner had slept with, when something snapped her attention away from the conversation and back towards Tric. Her Monferno was leaning so close to the glass, and to her absolute horror, she realised that the fire from the tail was beginning to melt the glass.

"Tric, you need to move back," she hissed.

The Monferno frowned and shook his head, gesturing pleadingly towards the window.

"I know you want to hear the gossip, but, by Arceus, your _tail-_"

"It's just not fair!" Spiral suddenly snapped. "How come folk like Sir Riley and Prince Volkner can get away with shit, but my butler can't?"

_Sir Riley? _

Despite herself, Nova shoved Tric aside with a yank of his tail and zoned back into the conversation.

"Sir Riley?" Wake was repeating. "Wha' did he do?"

"You didn't hear?" Spiral retorted. "He sponsored a gladiator – no one knows who – even though he is betrothed to the queen, and instead of tattooing his name on the gladiator's back, rumour has it that he tattooed a map of Sinnoh there instead. And- wait, what are you doing, Wake?"

Wake's voice sounded as if his mouth were full of food as he said, "I be starvin'."

"Wake, we are in the middle of an argument."

"I told you he was disrespectful," Lord Backlot snapped.

Wake snapped back, saying, "'Tis disrespectful t' let the grub go cold."

"You are a-"

"Shh. 'Tis also disrespectful t' argue in front o' the grub."

And that's when Nova realised that she, too, could smell the food. In fact, with Tric's tail managing to burn a big bloody _hole _in the window, the scent of food was wafting into her nose, into Barry's nose, into Tric's nose.

Her stomach rumbled, and she realised that she hadn't had supper. Nor had Barry.

And nor had Tric.

"Tric," she said slowly, "I want you to not-"

Her Monferno wasn't listening to her, though. His eyes were closed, and saliva was dribbling from his mouth as he sniffed longingly at the window.

"Tric, _no_."

The monkey only grinned wickedly at her.

Then, he was smashing his way through the window, sending embers and shards of glass _everywhere_.

On the other side, Lord Backlot and Lady Spiral shrieked. Crasher Wake laughed as he offered the Monferno some food.

And Nova couldn't help herself. She grabbed Barry and moved through the broken window, searching for her stupidly hungry Monferno. She tripped over the burning curtains, coughing and choking as she and her friend fell onto the rug.

Upon the sight of them, Lord Backlot raised his knife – a blunt knife for cutting _butter _– at them. "Thieves!"

"We are _not _thieves," Nova quickly said, pulling herself to her feet. "We are… Dammit, Tric, _really_?"

For there her Monferno was, snuggled tightly in Wake's arms, being _fed _grapes. He even had the audacity to wink at her when she raised her middle finger right at him.

"Aye, I know ye two," Wake said, frowning down at them. "Aren't ye the gladiators from Veilstone? From Twinleaf?"

But it was too late. Lord Backlot was already up on his feet, calling out for guards, while the blasted Monferno munched on grapes.

Barry, too, staggered his way to his feet and ran forwards – slamming into the table, but then scrambling to find himself a weapon. His hand stumbled across a spoon, then some other golden thing that Nova hadn't ever _seen _before, saying, "Hey, how come they all have three spoons on one plate? And, ow, how come one of the spoons are spiky and- by Arceus, is one of these a _knife_? Why do you need a_ knife _with supper?"

No one answered him. For, in that second, a guard rushed up to him, leaving poor Barry to duck past a whistling sword with only a golden spoon in his hand.

Nova watched for a second as her friend gritted his teeth and locked his spoon with another guard's dagger. His face was twisted, he was sweating by his brow, his face was flushed red, and his spoon was sinking lower and lower as the guard pushed down on his dagger-

_No._

They had left their swords and shields in the inns. And, that aside, Barry could hardly hear the whisper of the guard's blade beneath all the yelling and squealing of broken glass. There was no way they could win this.

Nova darted past the guards approaching her, ducking past their raised swords, before leaping right onto the table – her boot buried firmly into a cake.

"_Stop_!"

Everyone stopped, though Wake, in particular, gasped as he saw that the cake had been ruined by her boot.

"I… I think I have a plan," Nova quickly said. "I know how to save yer butler."

No one spoke. They all just stared at the wild-haired, wild-eyed girl in her silk blouse and britches.

"Ye're steppin' on th' cake!" Wake finally cried out.

Lady Spiral rolled her eyes. "Shut up. It's disrespectful to yell in front of food."

"Oh, aye, and 'tis not disrespectful to _step_ on the-"

Wake's words were cut short as Nova kicked some of the cake – dough, crumbs, cream and _all _– right at his face. Some even landed on Tric's head, to Nova's delight.

"Aye, she's daring," Wake mumbled, wiping the cream from his eyes. "Jus' like Maylene said. I like her."

"I don't," Backlot snapped. "Get this filthy thing out of my-"

This time, Lord Backlot's words were snatched away from his mouth as Barry hurled a spoonful of mashed potatoes at his face.

"Did I get him?" the blind boy asked.

Wake laughed. "Ye bloody did! Belay that, thar's also a bunch o' cherries t' yer left. See if ye can throw 'n aim it in me bloody mouth!"

"…_children, the lot of them…"_

While Barry tossed cherries into Wake's mouth, both of them cheering and hooting every time he aimed it perfectly, and Tric dug away at the rest of the food to Lord Backlot's dismay, Lady Spiral approached Nova and held her hands.

"Ignore them," she said. "_I'm_ listening."

* * *

The execution of Butler Oli and Gladiator Roxy started at dawn.

Nova wasn't sure what was more appalling – the fact that dozens of gladiators and townsfolk had woken up just to see it, or the way most of them hooted and swore and cheered as Oli and Roxy walked onto the stage that Wake had performed on just a night ago.

Both the butler and the gladiator were young, perhaps only a few winters older than her. And yet, there they stood, their faces lined with creases, their hands gripping onto one another so tightly that their fingers had turned a ghastly white.

"Oh, Oli… Roxy…" Lady Spiral whispered beside Nova.

Nova reached out with one hand and squeezed the lady's elbow. Then, with her other hand, she held tightly onto Barry's wrist.

"Even on the road to death, they hold hands," Nova pointed out.

Lady Spiral nodded grimly. "As I knew they would. Roxy was the daughter of my old maid, and Oli was the son of my butler. They grew up together, and we always knew Oli loved her. So, when my father wouldn't allow her to be a gladiator because it was _not proper _for a lady, Oli sponsored her. Even though he knew it meant he couldn't love her."

"He knew the cost, and he still did it?" Barry asked quietly.

The two girls watched and the one boy listened as Wake stepped onto the stage beside the butler and gladiator, his sword drawn. His eyes dimmed as he looked down at his feet and sighed.

"Love is hard like that," Lady Spiral said, her own gaze trained on her husband. "Sometimes, it means breaking all the rules."

"Like you did for Wake?" Nova asked.

Lady Spiral's hand fell to her belly, so big that Nova worried the baby would decide to come out there and then.

They watched Wake raise his sword and plunge it into Butler Oli's stomach – only the tip of the blade sliding through the tunic before the man croaked and fell to his knees, bloody slipping down from his chest and onto the stage.

Within seconds, the blade was out of his stomach and into Gladiator Roxy's instead. Blood spat out, the woman cried out and whimpered, and she fell atop her lover. Both of them lying there, hand in hand, within a puddle of blood.

A few people sighed, muttering how they deserved it beneath their breaths. A few people cried, pointing out that their hands were still limply intertwined. A few people only shrugged before turning on their heel and leaving the slaughter.

But Lady Spiral, Nova, and Barry stood there. Silent. Their lips nothing but a hard, unmoving line.

And, finally, as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky and splayed its orange light across the stage, the only ones that remained with the two bodies were Crasher Wake, his wife, and the two gladiators who had burst into their supper only a night ago.

When they were sure that no one was near – that no one was even within earshot – Butler Oli laughed.

"Arceus," he said, "I _hate _the smell of Bibarel blood."

Roxy, too, sat up. She grinned at her lover, at the blood splattered across their clothes as she fished out the sack of blood from within her tunic. "More so than you hate being dead?"

"Quiet!" Lady Spiral hissed. "Someone may come back and see you. We need to drag your bodies back to the Backlot Manor."

She instantly raced to Roxy's side, and smiled as Wake asked, "So, shall we celebrate wit' Oran Pie or Kelpsy Pie? Which one do ya prefer, Oli?"

Oli, who was lying back on the stage, ready to be dragged away, snorted. "I thought you said we're dead and that we can't talk?"

"Shut up, will ya?" Wake replied. "Ye're dead. You can't natter."

The two faux-dead bodies laughed at that, holding each other tight. Legionary Wake paused for a second to take one last glance at his Lady Spiral – a gaze that was so tender and raw that Nova found herself turning away.

If someone had asked her a few weeks ago if she had ever seen a gaze like that – a gaze that looked as bright and longing as hope, she would have said no.

But now, glancing at the two couples before her, she realised she _had _seen that look before. She had seen it aimed right at her, even when she had twigs sticking out of her hair and curses spilling out of her lips.

"I'll be seein' ye two at th' pier tomorrow, aye?" Wake called out suddenly. "For the legionary crystal?"

"Aye, cap'n!" Barry chirped out, looping his arm into Nova's. "We'll be there!"

Then, the two couples were gone, leaving the gladiators by the stage.

"I guess that's the end of Roxy's gladiator life," Barry said with a sigh. "Living in hiding for the rest of their lives… Say, Nova, is me scarf red? Ya know, like love? Like blood?"

Nova didn't answer for a long while. She just watched Lady Spiral and Legionary Wake, Roxy and Oli, Barry and his pink scarf.

And she smiled for a long time after that.

* * *

**Another one o' those episodic chapters, hey? Not sure how everyone else feels about them, but I quite like them. They may seem completely irrelevant, but I assure ye, these chapters are some o' th' most important ones. Why? **

**Well, I would tell ye. But that would be spoilin', aye?**

**Anyways, we've hit some milestones! We've reached the 100K of published words, and we've gone past 200 reviews! Crazy! **

**To celebrate, I thought I'd share a little song. In all truth, the song was not meant for anyone else to hear except a few dear friends, but these milestones are special, so I thought I'd share anyways. Basically, if you want to hear my voice, search up: "Little Talks [piano + female solo cover]" and there should be something by rheasunshine. That is me, and that is me doing a cover of a song that actually reminds me a bit of this story!**

**How does the song remind me of the story? Which characters is it relevant to? I'll let you work it out for yourselves. **


	30. Chapter XXIX

**Chapter XXIX**

"Bailey, please don't be a pain in the arse. Please- _dammit_."

Nova felt the breath leave her stomach as her Staravia hurtled into her, forcing them both to tumble onto the grass.

"By Arceus, I swear, Barry can see better than you, Bailey."

The training for them had been simple. Nova had marked a small cross onto a tree with her sword, and all the damned Staravia had to do was swoop towards the mark and scratch a line through it. Easy. Simple.

And, after hours, Bailey still hadn't done it.

He kept swerving at the last second, crashing into Nova or a tree or the bloody ground instead. It made no sense to the gladiator; his wing was basically healed up, he could see perfectly fine (she asked him to caw the number of fingers she was holding up multiple times), and his claws were happily scratching into everything else.

So why wouldn't he scratch the damned cross?

"…_perhaps he overthinks?..." _

"What?"

Her shadow shook a little, almost like a shrug. _"…not everyone is like you and rhys, nova. some pokémon actually like using their heads…"_

Nova smiled as Bailey snuggled against her for a second before soaring back up, ready to rush into the tree. He flew so quickly – so damned quickly – his wings moving in harmony with the wind, his claws curled, his beak set.

But, in the last second, she saw the panic in his eyes. The way his wings faltered for a second, making him swerve just that little bit – enough to miss the mark.

It reminded her so much of that time when she had danced with Lucas in the rain. Tripping her own feet, even though it was a simple step forward and back. Tripping because she had been thinking about it too hard.

"I have an idea," Nova said suddenly. "Bailey, drink some ale."

"…_nova, not everything can be solved by drinking…" _

The gladiator, though, was already ripping through her pack, searching for her last flask of ale. She laughed as Bailey choked slightly on it and made a face and, after setting down the flask, she held the Staravia's beak close to her face.

"Now, stop thinking. Do what me mother says: dance with the winds."

And, this time, when the Staravia swooped down from the sky and rushed towards the cross, he didn't flinch. He didn't hesitate for a second. He just let the air move with him, let the ale kick in like a second wind, and flicked his talons onto the tree. Drawing a perfect line through the cross.

Nova swallowed down some of the ale herself, just to celebrate.

"You bloody did it!" she called out, grinning as her Staravia came to sit on her head. "I just need to ale you up before you ever fight anyone, aye?"

Bailey cawed. Darkrai sighed.

"…_i would advise against it, but you wouldn't care, would you?..."_

"Nay, I wouldn't. Bailey, take the last sip – this time, I'm making you do it with yer eyes closed."

* * *

It was late at night by the time Nova and Bailey decided to walk back towards Lord Backlot's mansion, where they had been invited to rest. Apart from the yelling in a distant inn, they moved in silence, the grass cushioning the gladiator's feet, the lamps giving her both warmth and light.

"…_someone is following us…" _

Instantly, Nova's hand moved to her sword. "Who?"

She never heard his answer. For, in that second, the lamps went out.

Bailey screeched a warning. In the blackness of night, Nova twisted and leapt sideways, flattening herself against a tree. She felt something punch her shoulder, heard Staravia caw again as there was a thump, a crash, and an angry hiss of pain.

Then, Nova brought out of her own sword – listening for the breath, looking for the one patch that seemed darker than the night. She found the man – she thought, at least, it was a man – and swung her blade down as she saw him reach for her Staravia.

She couldn't see his face, but she saw him touch it and cry out. That's where her blade had landed – just below his eye, slicing down to his chin. And, before she could reach out and grab him or stab him, he was running away, the crunch of his boots softened by the grass.

Nova considered chasing after him. But, in that second, she saw Darkrai crawl out of her shadows – felt the fear grip at her stomach tightly.

Someone had tried to attack her.

Why?

Bailey landed on her hand and cawed softly. Nova shook her head.

The man was already long gone into the night. And she needed to sleep and rest before the legionary battle tomorrow.

Besides, she had left a long cut down his face. It would be much easier to find him in the light of day.

"Let's go," she whispered. "We won't worry about Oreburgh tonight. We need to rest."

Even as she walked, though, her Staravia and Darkrai stayed behind. Both of them staring down at a piece of paper that had fluttered from the man's hand. A piece of paper that said:

"_Turn back, November. Do not try to win tomorrow. Remember Bebe. Your mother could be next…" _

Bailey lifted the note in the air and tossed it towards the Darkrai. Demanding he read it.

But the Darkrai only let the note drift back to the ground.

"…_i like to keep things interesting…" _

* * *

With Darkrai back in her shadow the next morning, Nova didn't feel fear. And with the food laid out on the table of the Backlot Mansion – with bread and jams and all types of potatoes – Nova couldn't even be mad.

Instead, as she shoved a slice of pie into her mouth, she mumbled, "I think someone tried to kill me last night."

Lord Backlot and Lady Spiral looked at her, eyes wide, as she casually stuffed another bread crust into her mouth. Only Barry looked completely unfazed as he asked, "Who?"

"I dunno. I didn't get ta' see. I did leave a good slice down the bastard's face, though."

"I'll notify the guards right away," Lady Spiral said. "A cut down the face, you say?"

Nova waved away her concern. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"We must worry, Nova. We are forever in your debt."

"You've done enough. You've fed us, given us rooms to sleep in, helped up bathe…" She paused as she glanced at Barry, who was using the pointy spoon – a _fork_, Lady Spiral had explained – to scoop up some stew.

"I do not understand how this works," Barry grumbled, sticking the empty fork into his mouth. "This bloody spoon won't- _ow_! I think the spoon bit me tongue or somethin'?"

Both Nova and Lady Spiral rolled their eyes.

"…_men…" _

"Say, Gladiator Barry," Lady Spiral suddenly said. "Would you like to bathe this morning? I can help you to the tubs."

Nova frowned. "He can bathe himself, Lady Spiral."

"Naw, Nova," Barry quickly cut in. "If a pretty lass asks me to bathe with her, I'll always say yes. Stop ruining me fun."

"She's married, Barry. And pregnant."

"Aye, but that don't make her less pretty to me."

Lady Spiral laughed at that. "Don't worry, November. I planned on bathing him by dumping him into the sea."

"Okay, _now _you're startin' to sound a whole lot less pretty."

Even then, Barry let Lady Spiral escort him out of the dining chambers. Which left poor Nova with Lord Backlot, who was running hands through his grey hair, his thick brows furrowed. He took one glance at the gladiator across the table from him, shuddered as she grinned at him, and was just about to excuse himself when Nova suddenly called out to him.

"Why don't you like Legionary Wake?"

And so, Lord Backlot sighed and sank back into his chair. "You've met him. He's improper, rude, doesn't wear a shirt but dresses up as ladies for his plays. By Arceus, he's a _pirate_. He's…" He sighed as Nova rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Nay, you're right," Nova said. "I _don't _understand. I am from Twinleaf, after all. So is me best friend. But you should know that there's a knight who loves me, even though I am from Twinleaf."

"Your point?"

Nova shrugged. "If this knight can look past where I came from, then why can't you?"

"That _knight _of yours probably comes from nothing."

"Aye, but you know who came from something?" Nova asked. "Lady Vernia. My mother."

He gave her the same look that everyone else seemed to give her when she told them. His eyes widened, he scanned her from head to toe – spending an extra second looking at her long black hair – and took a sharp breath. "Your mother was Lady Vernia? The dancer?"

"Aye. And me father was some bastard of a man who got her pregnant and tried to kill that baby by pushing her down the stairs."

"Lass, I-"

"And _I _am that baby," Nova cut in, standing up to slam her fist into the table. "My mother's legs are broken because my arsehole of a father wanted _me _dead."

Lord Backlot went silent, but Nova saw the pity in his eyes. The shock.

But she didn't want it.

"I could have been different," she told him. "I could have been a nice lady like yer daughter. Or a dancer. I could have travelled all around Sinnoh with a gown instead of a fucking sword. But I didn't, because some arsehole of a man couldn't see past the differences."

"November," Lord Backlot finally said. "I'm sorry."

Nova shook her head. "I know you are. Because your daughter fell in love with a pirate, and now they are about to have a child. And if you want your child to be nothing like the bitch I am, then I suggest you hurry up and start looking past those differences, Backlot."

For a while, neither of them said anything. Nova just stuffed herself with food, shoving some onto a plate to take to her Pokémon in the room, while Backlot eyed her carefully.

Only when she stood to leave did he speak.

"I owe you, November of Twinleaf," he said quietly. "If there is anything I can do for you…"

Nova only waved her hand, not stopping to face him.

"I'll think on it, Lord Backlot. I'll think on it."

* * *

While Nova hadn't expected another grand arena as she had seen in Veilstone, she certainly hadn't expected her next legionary battle to be within a tavern.

The tables were filled with sailors and seamen with their leather caps, ruffled cravats, and greatcoats; their scarred faces and teeth made of silver; their pipe smoke, gleaming blades, and feral smiles. Even Rhys the Luxio, the only Pokémon Nova had brought with her, had the sense to bite down his growl as one splashed some ale towards him.

Wake's own seat was made of bleached coral and bones, and he grinned as the gladiators piled into the room, his leg propped lazily onto a table.

"This is how it works," he said. "I hold my legionary battle once a week – save the time of the Spring Ball and the Veilstone Legionary. Each week, I get the ships ready, and you gladiators are separated into ships, and you race. First cape to reach the shore wins."

"Great!" Barry cried out from beside Nova, and she flushed as heads of both gladiators and pirates turned to stare at them. "When do we start?"

Wake winked. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" another one of the gladiators called out. "Then why're we here _now_?"

"To decide who the cap'ns of the ship are, of course, and who wears the capes." Wake stood, then, and only then did Nova realise that he held some capes in his hand – capes of different colours, of different fabrics. "It's easy. Raise yer hand if you want to be cap'n, and if two folks want it, they shall duel."

There were two capes Nova could see – an orange one, and a gold one. And, from the corner of her eye, she saw one gladiator shoot his hand into the air.

"I want to be cap'n of the gold ship," he said.

And, as Nova turned to face him, she felt her stomach drop.

The gladiator had a scratch running down his cheek. Right down to his chin.

"He's the one," Nova whispered to Barry. "He… The bastard tried to kill me!"

Wake was just about to hand over the gold cape to the gladiator when Nova raised her hand.

"I want to be cap'n of the gold ship."

Everyone turned to roll their eyes at her. Even Wake frowned as he said, "Lass, no one has claimed the orange ship. You can take that, if you so please?"

"No," Nova quickly said, turning to the gladiator with the long cut down his face. She saw him flinch, saw his face pale as she said, "I want the gold ship. And I suppose we must duel. Rhys?"

All she had to do was point, and the Luxio was off.

He leapt up onto the table, and as he reached for the gladiator, the man's Floatzel stood in his way. Water flew from his mouth, but Rhys was a step quicker – lightning bursting from his body, turning the water into hissing mist.

And, by the time the rest of the gladiators had fanned the mist from their eyes, they saw that it was no longer a Luxio straddling the Floatzel – but a Luxray.

The gladiator with the scarred face gasped, and even Nova felt her throat catch as she saw the fury in Rhys's gaze, the cold ruthlessness.

"Rhys, calm down-"

"…_he is angry, nova. someone nearly killed his favourite gladiator, and he hadn't been there to protect you…" _

The Floatzel raised his hand to slap away Rhys, but the Luxray was already plunging his claws into its stomach, sluices of blood arching off his nails. Then, with a single swipe, the Floatzel was rolling off the table and onto the floor, moaning in agony.

"Rhys, I need you to _calm down-_"

But the Luxray was far from done.

He jumped at the gladiator – the one who had tried to kill his Nova – and brought his claws into his braids, nails clawing down the man's face, down to his throat-

"_Rhys, stop_!"

There were cries of terror and outrage across the tavern as Rhys worked, face twisted, teeth bared, red on his face, hot and thick as the man flailed and cried because, oh, Arceus, the _blood_-

Nova shoved her way to her Luxray, yanked him back by the tail, and snarled.

"I said _stop_."

Her Luxray didn't even growl back. He just looked at her, startled, eyes wide as he took in the horror in her eyes. And, for a sick second, the electric-type worried that his owner no longer loved him, that she truly and genuinely feared him, that his attempt at vengeance had made things _worse_-

Then, Nova leaned in and hugged the Luxray – even though the blood dripped from his fur and onto her.

"I love you, you nonce," she whispered. "And I need you to scare off all the other gladiators. Act like you're batshit mad. Can you do that for me?"

He mostly certainly could. So, Nova pushed him away, crying out some bullshit about how her own Luxray had bitten her. Then, Rhys leapt towards the other gladiators, grinning wickedly as many of them backed away, as few of them asked their Pokémon to fight – only to have those Pokémon shriek and run out of the tavern.

While he did that, Nova ran to the bleeding man – the one who had tried to kill her only a day ago. Rhys had done a good job on him; blood was spurting from his face, and his breaths were thin as he glanced up at her.

"Why did you try to kill me last night?"

He spat blood at her. "Piss off."

Nova rolled her eyes. Reached for a glass of ale. Poured it all over his bleeding face. Listened to him scream.

"_Why did you try to kill me last night?_"

Panting, the man shook his head. "Please, lass, I can't tell you. I'll die. I swore that I wouldn't tell…"

"You're about to die now, arsehole. Let me call my Luxray-"

"No! Please!"

"Then tell me why the hell you tried killing me."

He took a long, wheezing breath, blood dripping from his head, down his braids, into his mouth as he said, "I was asked to."

"By who?"

"I can't tell, lass." He raised his hands in defence as Nova grabbed another glass of ale. "_Please_, lass! Don't hurt me! I didn't mean for this to happen. He said that, if I couldn't kill you, I was supposed to leave a note… and so I left the note! I never was gonna hurt you…"

He glanced up, looking for anyone to help him. But with Rhys blasting lightning everywhere, forcing mist and dust and smoke to waft from the corners of the room, no one could see a damned thing. No one could even hear his squeals of protest over Luxray's hissing.

"A note?" Nova asked. "What note?"

"The one I left for you…"

"What did it say?"

The man winced. "I wasn't supposed to read it. I didn't write it…"

"_What did it say_?"

"Something about a lass named Bebe! About remembering her and you stopping the Gladiator Games!"

That stunned Nova enough to send her staggering back, the glass of ale dropping from her hand and onto her boots.

The man made it sound as if he didn't even know who Bebe was. But if the note said to _remember _her…

She remembered the note that Joy had read upon finding Bebe's body. And, though she felt no fear with the Darkrai eating away at it, she felt a sick pain in her heart as she realised.

Whoever had ordered this man to kill her had also ordered the death of Bebe. She was sure of it.

Just as she was about to grab the gladiator by the collar and threaten to rip his throat out if he didn't give her a name, she felt Wake's hand grab her by her shoulder and force her back.

"Nova," the pirate was saying, "I don't know what has gotten into you and that Luxray of yours, but you better fucking _stop_."

One glance at the pirate's stern eyes was enough to make her nod slowly and bow her head. "Sorry, Legionary Wake."

"Sorry?" With a grin, the pirate tussled her hair and tossed the gold cape at her. "Nothing to be _sorry _for. Lass, that was the fiercest duel I've ever bloody seen. I should be thanking you, but I won't, because you've destroyed me favourite tavern. Nonce."

Nova laughed at that. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lady Spiral rushing to the bleeding gladiator, already asking for someone to call a healer. She saw Rhys, bounding up to her, smiling as she reached out to hug him.

And, as she held her Luxray tight, Wake called out, "Gladiators! I expect to see everyone here by noon! We'll have tidied up this tavern, and as per tradition, to celebrate the start of the challenge tomorrow, we shall drink!"

Barry shouted in agreement. The few gladiators that hadn't run out of the tavern also cheered, though many of them stared at Nova and her Luxray. Sizing her up. No doubt wondering if they could ask to _not _be on her ship.

Though Nova couldn't stop thinking of the gladiator she had duelled – that _Rhys _had duelled for her – and his words about Bebe, she turned to Legionary Wake.

"Say," she said, "Lord Backlot owes me a favour, nay?"

Legionary Wake furrowed his brow. "Aye?"

Nova grinned.

"I know exactly what I need of him."

* * *

"I truly detest this," Lord Backlot was hissing, "and I truly detest you."

Nova only grinned. Of all things to ask the noble to do, she had asked him to drink with her at the tavern – if only to see him shudder and squirm as pirates reached out to slap his back.

"Everyone, let's all drink to me father-in-law!" Wake was calling out. "It's his first time in these taverns!"

Everyone – gladiators and pirates alike – cheered, tossed their heads back, and drank. Wake approached Backlot, who was still staring at his daughter; Lady Spiral had found herself a place on her husband's coral-and-bone chair, and though she didn't touch any ale, she was laughing as she spoke to pirates, as they suggested the most ridiculous names for her unborn child.

"Please do not touch me," Backlot was muttering to Wake.

The Legionary's hand was dangerously close to his father-in-law's hair as he said, "Only if you drink a whole glass of ale in one go."

"Absolutely not. I have class. I will not disrespect-"

"He's only saying that because he can't handle his ale!" Lady Spiral called out from her little throne.

Lord Backlot scowled. "Oh, give me that."

Everyone watched as Backlot snatched the ale from Wake and drank it all – not leaving a single drop in the glass. The gladiators and pirates hooted, and even Lord Backlot was fighting back a smile as Wake raised his hand in surrender.

Beside her, Nova heard Barry say, "Did he do it? Drink it all?"

"Aye," she told him. "One go. He's already on his second one."

"Bloody brilliant."

"…_what will be bloody brilliant is seeing his face in the morning when he remembers all of this…" _

Barry snorted. "I'll sneak into his bloody room just so I can hear what he has ta' say."

"…_you assume he'll be sleeping in his room tonight…" _

Nova didn't say anything as her shadow and Barry murmured in low voices, sounding much like gossiping old crones. Instead, her gaze darted around the tavern, moving over the damage she and Rhys had caused – a few broken tables, charred walls, a shattered window.

Then, she saw him. The gladiator she had duelled in the morning. He was sitting at a table, by himself, bandages wrapped all around his face, stained red.

Nova instantly excused herself, handing her glass of ale to Barry before strolling over to the table.

"Hello again," she said.

The gladiator's eyes went wide, searching around for a Pokémon. There was none; Nova had let them all rest in the Backlot Mansion. She wished, for a second, that she _had _brought Rhys – especially seeing how close this lad was to pissing himself.

"I won't start a fight here," she reassured him. "I just need to know a few things."

"Aye."

Nova nodded slowly. "The man who asked you to kill me – or the one who wrote the note – why does he hate me?"

"In all truth, I dunno," he told her, so blankly that she _knew _it had to be true. "He just offered me a ton of gold, told me you were a threat to me, anyways, and that killing you now would save me a lot of trouble. He just doesn't want you to win, I think. He said people can't know who you are."

"Is he my father?"

He shrugged. "He'd be a pretty darn young father, I reckon, if he was. All I know is that he wants you dead, and it's freaking _hard_, you know? You're never by yourself, and you even heard me coming last night. How the hell did you hear me coming? I was so quiet…"

Nova didn't bother explaining that she _hadn't, _in fact, heard him. It had been Darkrai.

"Is it a legionary?" she asked. "Fantina? Volkner?"

The gladiator glanced around, his knuckles white as he squeezed the table.

"Look, lass," he said to her, his voice a mumble beneath his bandages. "It's not safe to tell you. There could be spies everywhere. So… I'll write a note tonight with his name on it. Tomorrow, I'll choose your ship and slip the note into your pocket. Aye?"

It sounded like a fair plan. In fact, it was such a great plan that Nova felt light afterwards. She went back to Barry, back to drinking, back to dancing with pirates and asking Lady Spiral if she could name her future child _Gussy_. She even challenged Backlot to see who could drink the most ale, and though both of them lost to _Barry_ of all people, they both laughed at the defeat.

By the end of the night, after stumbling with Wake on a table while they tried to act out _The Nigh is Twigh_, Nova – despite the ale – felt good. Great.

She would know who killed Bebe tomorrow.

The plan was so perfect. She couldn't read whatever name the lad would write, sure. But Darkrai could. And he would tell her. Then, she could work on revenge.

It was a perfect plan.

So perfect that, the next morning, when Legionary Wake announced that the gladiator who was supposed to give her the name was found dead by the taverns, Nova hadn't even been surprised.

Especially when she found out that it was death by poison.

* * *

**This chapter was certainly a ride from beginning to end, but I loved it. Okay, to be fair, I enjoy writing every chapter. Nova's story is something I'm so fiercely passionate about. **

**Next chapter, it's legionary battle time. And, since it'll technically be the Valentine's Day chapter but I can't quite afford to drag Lucas or Riley all the way to Pastoria for love triangle complications, I've decided to give Leila the Roselia a bit of love. Because nothing quite screams cliché Valentine's Day gift like a rose. **

**Love y'all!**


	31. Chapter XXX

**Chapter XXX **

Nova lowered her spyglass and leaned over the railing, peering down at the sea beneath her ship. The wind at their backs was swift, forcing the seas to crest against the wood as their ship cut through the waters – straight and smooth, like an arrow from a bow.

None of the other gladiators came near her, save Barry. Rumours had spread like wildfire that _she _had been the one who had poisoned that other gladiator, that her Luxray had ripped out his Floatzel's throat with his teeth and eaten its liver raw. Even now, she could hear some of the gladiators aboard her own ship whisper about how she had _seduced _the poor man.

Nova felt for the cape behind her – its gold burning scarlet in the sunrise. Her ship was in the lead, beating the ship with the orange flag by far.

But something had felt odd about it. The orange ship had been in the lead from the second they had started on the east side of Pastoria. But then, they had slowed suddenly – taking down their sails, letting her ship and her gladiators hoot and howl as they passed it.

And, besides, she had heard the rumours for herself. The gladiator that was captain of the orange ship had been a pirate long before he had become a gladiator.

It made no sense. Almost as little sense as some person she didn't even know asking another gladiator to kill her.

She heard Barry step behind her, heard her Roselia murmur something. While her poor friend had assured her that he was feeling better now about his Staravia, Nova knew it was a blatant lie - after all, he had even asked Prinny to stay on the shores, even though she was a water-type.

"Why would they slow down?" Nova asked them. "Why wouldn't they keep going if they were in the lead?"

Barry shrugged. "Maybe they wanted ta' see what me arse looked like?"

"…_or maybe they saw something up ahead…" _

Whatever it was, Nova felt ready for it. She felt ready for the miles of blue above and below her, ready to face the other gladiators and whichever bastard killed Bebe.

And she'd do what she always did: fight with everything she had.

So, she leaned against the railing and spat into the sea.

"Come at me, bitches."

* * *

It was only minutes later when Nova realised that, once again, Darkrai had been right. There _had _been something the orange ship had seen before her, something they had purposely backed away from.

A storm.

Barry had already marched across the deck, barking orders with a voice of steel. His words were drowned out by the curses and songs of the rising seas against their hull, the wailing that swelled and crashed against their faces, the lightning that licked so damned close to their ship.

It wasn't a natural storm – she knew that much.

Some blasted Pokémon had made it rain.

Nova heard Leila cry out from the deck, and raced to see what the Roselia was pointing at. At first, she saw nothing but the gnashing swell of the ocean's jaws, the rolling steel-blue of the waves.

Then, she saw the scales. The long, serpentine body. The red eyes, the razor teeth, and the skin that was blue as the sea.

And it was cutting just below the water, swarming towards the belly of her ship.

"Gyarados," one of the gladiators cried out behind her.

Dozens of them. Maybe more – each one a flailing length of muscle with a mouthful of swords. And though she couldn't feel it herself, Nova could see the sliver of fear the pierced through the gladiators around her.

All except for Barry, who frowned and asked, "What's a Gyarados?"

"Let's just say that you should pray to Arceus," one of the gladiators told him. "Pray to Arceus, but also keep rowing for shore. Because even Arceus might not be able to save us."

"Oh. So, I take they're not nice?"

Nova looked at the Gyarados gathering before her, making the ship creak and groan and sigh.

"I really should not have called them bitches."

* * *

The rain was like spears against their faces as six Gyarados rose from beneath, using their tails to try wrapping around the ship from below. Nova could only watch in horror as one swiped at the foremast, and half a dozen gladiators were sent screaming off the deck and into the waters.

"Cut it!" a gladiator called out. "Otherwise it'll drag us under!"

A few of gladiators drew their blades and started hacking at the Gyarados, desperate and wild. They were mere annoyances to the beast, though; like tiny little Chingling buzzing around its scales. Even the few Pokémon that had been sent to fight – Pelippers and Quagsires and Azumarills – barely seemed to land a scratch on it. They were all too hesitant, all too fearful.

But with Darkrai riding in her shadow, Nova had no hesitance – no fear – as she brought her sword down in a scything arc. The Gyarados she sliced was as broad as a barrel, its skin as tough as leather, but her sword cut through it deep enough to make it howl and writhe back.

The other Gyarados went mad with rage, smashing, flailing, and splintering at the railing – snapping the foremast off with an ear-piercing crack. Nova shuddered as more gladiators fell, as their boat tipped, as some of her own people moved down into the thrashing waters where the mouths of Gyarados awaited them.

Barry was hacking away with his own sword, a single Gyarados writhing around him. Nova almost paused to admire the strength in him; he was drenched in the Gyarados's blood, and yet, he spun around, water spraying, always listening. His blond hair slapped his face as he brought his blade down again and again, severing the Gyarados, and he sent it back into the water with a single kick.

"You okay?" Nova called out to him.

He cracked a grin. "You really should _not _have called them bitches!"

With a shake of her head, Nova turned to her side – where another two Gyarados were rising from the water. She shouted for Leila, and there her Roselia was, ready for battle.

She and Leila fought side by side – harder than ever, sadder than ever, toughened from miles of death. But still, they whirled and swayed like partners in some bloody waltz, a sword moving in time with vines, moving as one as they fought their way across the deck. Hewing. Slashing. Spinning.

The waters crashed down upon them, but sure enough, with a final burst of petals, the Roselia sent _both _the Gyarados splashing into the water.

Nova watched as her Roselia screamed for more – her sweet, sweet face dark from the rain and blood. Watched as the grass-type darted to the other end of the deck, lashing out at the other Gyarados that the gladiators had been struggling with, sending every single one of the bloody beasts hissing back as she screamed and tossed her vines towards them.

Her gladiator only stared, stunned, as Leila came back to her.

It seemed, after all, that The Annoyingly Happy Roselia had learnt a thing or two from Rhys.

"You're a mad little thing, aren't you?" she asked the small Pokémon.

Roselia smiled just for her. And a part of Nova could have lived in that moment forever.

By then, most of the Gyarados had gone under – pressed down by the bellow of the waves.

And Nova realised she had a completely different issue.

Their ship was almost gone.

Another wave hit their starboard, nearly sending the whole ship lurching over. The boat's spine was so twisted – so twisted that it was close to breaking – and the oceans were still thrashing, the rain was still rolling, and the sky was still as black as night. Leila the Roselia reached out with a vine and caught Barry before he stumbled off, and Nova held her best friend tightly to her.

Their ship was sinking. And, once it sank, the other ship – the one with that blasted orange flag – would overtake them. Because now that most of the Gyarados had been sorted…

"Our ship is gone, Barry," Nova told her friend. "We've lost."

Barry frowned. "Well, that's shit."

"Aye. It's shit."

But Leila the Roselia wasn't taking it. She kept shaking her head, reaching out with a vine to tug at Nova's cape, urging her, reminding her that-

_Each week, I get the ships ready, and you gladiators are separated into ships, and you race. _

_First cape to reach the shore wins._

Nova heard Wake's words in her head, sharper than ever. And she reached out and planted a kiss on her Roselia's head.

"Leila, you bloody _genius_," she said. Then, turning to the other gladiators, who were clinging onto their lives – some of them already hailing their flying-types and water-types to carry them to shore – she said, "We don't need our ship to win! We just need this bloody cape to make it to shore!"

A few of the gladiators paused for a second. Thinking about it. All they needed to do was get the girl with the cape to the shore.

Then, one of the gladiators – one with an ugly face that Nova had already hated from the second he opened his mouth – laughed.

Because, at the end of the day, the gladiators were not really meant to work _with _each other. They were there to _kill _each other.

"I say, we kill the girl, take the cape, and get to the shore!" he called out. "Every man for himself!"

And Nova could only sigh as she watched all the gladiators slowly nod in understanding.

_Kill the Twinleaf gal. Kill the one whose name had taken over the Veilstone Colosseum. _

"Well, that's not great," Nova said.

Her shadow hummed in agreement.

"…_so much for being captain…" _

* * *

The timbers along the ship cracked and buckled from both the pressure of the waves tearing it apart, and the weight of the gladiators tumbling across the deck – desperate to put their blades into Nova's heart and take the cape.

Barry stood atop the port stairwell, Roselia with him, the grass-type bringing one of her vines down in an overhand swing. The woman she had hit paused, giving Barry time to split her skull with his own blade. Nova stood atop the other stairwell, plunging her sword through a gladiator's chest and kicking him backwards, sending all the gladiators behind him sprawling.

She decided that it was a _lot _easier to kill when her own head was nearly getting axed every third second.

The deck rocked again as a wave smashed into the bow. The broken masts of their ship trailed heavily in the water, ready to drag them all below, and as Nova slashed at another gladiator, her heart raced.

She was too busy fighting off her fellow gladiators to stop the other ship from reaching the shore.

And if they made it to the shore before her-

They would lose.

A gladiator charged up the stairs with his blade drawn, teeth bared. Nova caught his thrust on her sword, turned it aside. Then, she saw Roselia wrap him up in vines, ribbons of green seizing hold of his arms, legs, throat, holding the gladiator pinned and thrashing in mid-air.

With a little shout, Leila the Roselia tossed the man into the ocean, then, feeding him to the Gyarados.

Nova only had a second to smile down at her sweet little Pokémon. For, all around her, the ship was crumbling – masts and spine broken, seas still crashing into it like an axe.

They couldn't possibly swim the rest of the way – not with the Gyarados in the ocean. Nova had left Bailey in the inns, and even if Bailey had been there, there was no way he could have flown both her and Barry to the shore.

There was no way, unless-

Nova watched as Leila's vines tore at a Gyarados that had begun to rise from the water.

And, as the Roselia turned back to look at her trainer, both of them froze. An idea blazing in both of their heads. A crazy idea. An insane idea.

But no more insane than staying on a dying ship in an ocean full of Gyarados.

Nova raced to Barry's side, carving her sword into gladiators that stepped into her path and tried to rip the cape from her back. One of them had even ripped out a small chunk of it, and, in turn, Nova had slapped him square in the face and sent him lurching back.

"I need you to hold on to me!" Nova yelled out to Barry as she reached him.

He instantly listened, letting her navigate his hands so that they were tightly wrapped around her waist. Then, Nova called for Leila, pointed at the iron-grey sea, the gnashing swell of the waves.

Leila the Roselia's rose extended out into a vine, wrapping around Barry and Nova tightly. Then, with her blue rose lengthening out into another long vine, she wrapped it around the nearest Gyarados.

Then, all three of them stepped off the boat.

Nova felt a moment of weightlessness, the sensation of falling, her best friend in her arms and nothing but death beneath them both.

But, before they could plunge into the sea, Roselia's vine released the Gyarados and latched onto another. Bringing them back into the air, their breaths hollow, even the Darkrai silent as they moved across the storm.

A blink. A flicker of lightning. And the Roselia had released the second Gyarados and was already tightly holding onto a third, skipping across the beasts like a stone, dancing through the waves but never touching them.

Nova laughed as the miles melted away. Laughed as she realised that she was passing by the ship with the orange masts. Laughed as each Gyarados tried to snap at Leila, only to have the Roselia latch onto another one a second too quick – a second before the beast could catch them with its jaws.

Vine after vine, latch after latch, skip after skip, Nova caught sight of the pale shores ahead. Caught sight of Legionary Wake, shaking his head in amazement as he grinned. Caught sight of all the pirates, cheering as the Roselia swept them well ahead of the two ships, as she used her vine to latch onto the wooden pillars that held up the pier.

Even Lady Spiral and Lord Backlot were there, aghast and delighted. Shocked but amused.

Leila's grip on the pier snapped just as they nearly crashed into the wood, and instead, the two gladiators and the Roselia fell onto the sand.

Nova didn't bother jumping onto her feet. She just ripped the golden cape from her back and tossed it into the sand beside her, raising a not-so-nice finger in the air as she called out to the ocean.

"Take _that, _bitches."

And, as Nova heard Barry laugh and felt her Roselia jump into her arms for a hug, Nova felt herself finally and truly begin to do something she had never let herself do before.

_Believe. _

* * *

**Four crystals, and no deaths? Strange. **

**Happy Valentine's, folks! Well, it's Valentine's for me. Since, Australia. **

**Anyways, a few fun facts! **

**So, for those who were wondering, I named Wake's wife 'Lady Spiral' for a simple reason: the ship in Sinnoh that takes you the post-game places (Fight Area, Resort, Heatran's pit of hell) is called S.S. Spiral. It makes sense for the ship to eventually be named after her one day. Similarly, I kept talking about amity and amie in Fantina's Gardens, because that eventually becomes Amity Square, no? **

**Also, back to the point about no deaths. Fun fact: when I initially started the nuzlocke, this story was supposed to be super quirky and funny and set in a contemporary world. 'November' was supposed to be your average teenage protagonist. Then, I got to this point and was like... No one has died and we are four gyms in. How is that... How will I make that an interesting story? So, I changed Nova to the girl she is now, and I made the worldbuilding more fun. Hope y'all are enjoying!**


	32. Chapter XXXI

**Chapter XXXI**

That night, the pirates celebrated Nova and Barry's win by drinking in the tavern. None of the other gladiators had come, surprising no one – the other gladiators on Nova's ship were still forced to stay back another week to attempt for their legionary crystal again, since Legionary Wake had heard about them trying to kill their captain, and the gladiators on the orange ship also were left with no crystal for losing the race.

Barry was already there, glugging away at the ale. But Nova had been out during the evening, training at the Oreburgh Mines, remembering the way Leila had swung from Gyarados to Gyarados with deftness and speed, with strength and courage.

If it hadn't been for that Roselia, Nova would have been another lump of bones inside a Gyarados's guts. And as _wicked _as Barry said that was, the lass couldn't quite stomach it for herself.

With her grip tight on the rope that Bailey the Staravia was flying around, Nova let herself breathe in the cold wind, the salty breeze, the thick scent of ale.

For once, she was at peace. She could think. She had four legionary crystals studded into her belt, and her friend was determined to get the other four. But she had a mother to look after.

And yet, she had so many – _too _many – unfinished matters. There was Bebe's killer, who was trying to kill _her_, there was Lucas, there was Duke Rowan, there was her best friend to consider now that she had made _more _gladiators angry, and there were her Pokémon. The ones she was training every night, and the ones she was sparring with every morning.

Her head hurt just thinking about all of it.

Bailey cawed above her, stopping in his tracks, leaving them hovering in the air.

"What's wrong, Bailey?"

The Staravia cawed. Nova glanced up, then followed his gaze.

There – through the thick brambles and honey trees, through the dark veil of the night – was a Galactic Healer. They were darting through the dark, threading through tree after tree, a net in their hands.

Nova narrowed her eyes at the net. "It's too small to fit a person."

"…_perhaps a baby?..." _

"Why would the Galactic Healers want ta' steal a baby?"

"…_who wouldn't want a baby? the screaming. the crying. the ankle biting- oh, wait, i realise i am describing you…" _

Nova snorted. "Thanks, Darkrai. Bailey, I say we just leave the Galactic Healer. It's none of our business, anyways."

The moment she said it, she knew she was lying to herself. Even Bailey remained frozen, staring at the healer, frowning.

Then, against his gladiator's will, the Staravia started flying towards the Galactic Healer.

"Bailey, do _not._"

The Staravia hesitated. Sighed. Turned back towards Pastoria, his eyes big and round and begging and-

"Oh, bloody hell, _fine. _Let's go start some shit."

Bailey turned back towards the healer, chirping. Nova rolled her eyes.

"You are the biggest bloody sop in the world, you know that?"

The Staravia only grinned.

* * *

Once they were closer, Nova could clearly see the healer – the red tufts of hair, the slight limp, the flutter of the black cloak.

And she felt her heart clench.

_Mars_.

"Hey!" Nova called out. "Stop!"

The healer turned around, her eyes sharp beneath the mask, glaring as she spotted the gladiator and swore. And, though she kept running, her limp kept her staggering, her breaths were becoming shallower, and the weight of the Pokémon in the net was dragging her pace slower and slower until-

Mars hissed as the Staravia dropped his gladiator onto the healer, leaving the two girls stumbling in the grass, scratching at each other. Nova threw a kick at the girl's face, reaching for the net, only to have Mars yank her back by her hair.

It was then that the gladiator properly saw what was in the net.

The Abra. The Abra that had been following her across all of Sinnoh, the one that belonged to Meryl, the one that looked so damned weak and limp with the net around him and the red chains around his wrist.

Stranger yet, as the Abra glanced down at the red chains and winced, Nova felt that pain in her own wrists. Sharp and yet, distant. Clinging around her very bones. Making her wrists feel as if they were as empty as air.

Nova heard Mars call out her Purugly, saw the normal-type pounce onto her, winced as she imagined the pain she would feel as those sharp claws dug into her eyes-

The Purugly never hit her face. For, in that second, Bailey had swooped down. Raising the Purugly in the air. His talons strained as he tried desperately to lift the Pokémon – the Pokémon that was far too heavy for him – higher and higher in the air.

"Purugly, put the stupid thing to sleep."

And, as Mars tightened her grip around Nova's hair, the gladiator could only watch as the Purugly glanced up at her Staravia with its glaring eyes. Bailey blinked once, twice, and then-

"_No_," Nova croaked out.

Then, the Staravia fell asleep in mid-air, bringing himself and Purugly to the ground with a crack that made Nova wince.

She felt Darkrai leave her shadow – felt the pain and worry and fear rattle her heart as she watched the Purugly land on its feet, and saw it scratch at her sleeping Staravia.

Something awoke inside her – angry and fierce, hysterical and cold – and Nova ripped her sword from her belt and slammed it into whatever part of Mars she could see.

It dug straight into the healer's leg. And yet, Mars didn't flinch. Didn't blink back in pain.

And when Nova drew back the sword, there was no blood. Even though she was _certain _it had gone so deeply in.

Feeling lost and lonely without a familiar whisper in her shadows and a familiar Staravia beside her, Nova took a long glance at her sword.

And she _saw_.

She saw a girl with red hair, dressed in gladiator armour. Rushing into the Veilstone Colosseum, with seven legionary crystals shining within her belt. The crowd was roaring – chanting a name over and over, their screams like a pulse in her ears.

_Mars! Mars! Mars! Mars!_

She saw the red-haired gladiator slice others with her sword, killing like some feral beast, her Purugly by her side. Except, as she brought another man to the ground and stepped over him, she froze. Collapsed. Screamed.

For the man that she had brought to the ground had used his dying breath to swing his sword at her, hacking her below the knee and sending blood spurting onto his face as the girl's limb lower leg was cleanly sliced off.

Nova saw and saw and _saw_.

She saw Mars near Floaroma, her own body crouched as she held onto Bebe and stared at the body of Bebe's father.

"_We should kill them," one of the healers had said to Mars. "They may be threats." _

_Mars had shrugged, turning to stare at November for a long time. "I know her. And she's harmless. She… She doesn't deserve it."_

And finally, Nova saw herself in the Twinleaf Wastes, digging through scraps of garbage, searching for supper. Mars was there – her leg but a mere stump – watching her from the side, hovering beside Nova's own mother.

"_You're new, aren't you?" Vernia had asked her. "I saw knights bring you in this morning." _

_Mars had nodded, her weight against a wooden cane, staring down at the woman who was sitting on the sand. _

"_If you need anything, you can ask my daughter for help," the woman had rattled on, her smile soft as she watched the black-haired girl rummage through more garbage. "She can teach you how to search for supper, and if your leg proves to be difficult, she would be more than happy to help you." _

"_What's wrong with her?"_

_The question had clearly caught Vernia by surprise. "What do you mean?" _

"_I am missing half a leg. You can't even stand. What's wrong with your daughter?" _

The vision ended there. And Nova was left staring at her sword, staring at the healer beside her, staring at her own shaking hands.

"You're just like me," she whispered.

Mars released her hair and tried to scramble onto her feet – stumbling, limping. "I don't know what you mean."

"You were in Twinleaf. You met my mother."

"I was in Twinleaf for a day," Mars snapped.

But Nova was already reaching out, tearing at the healer's cloak with her sword, slicing through the tunic.

And she saw that one of Mars's legs was not a leg at all. It was wood – wood twisting out from beneath the knee and stretching out like a stump.

Before she could ask, she felt that same clamminess in her hands as she _saw. _

"_You don't want to be here," a low voice had said. _

_Mars had only shaken her head, lying in the sand, crying as she touched the tattoo of her sponsor on her back. "I don't belong here." _

"_Then let me escort you to Veilstone. I have healers working under me." _

"_Can your healers grow my fucking leg back?" _

_The man had laughed. "No. But I know a Song Sister that can." _

_There had been silence as Mars stared up at his face for the first time. Her eyes brimming with hope. _

"_Who are you?" _

"_Cyrus. I watched your battle in Veilstone. You would have won if your leg hadn't been cut off." _

"_Can't do much about it now, can we? Can't turn back time."_

_His eyes had twinkled, then. "Are you sure about that?"_

The only thing that broke Nova out of the vision was the sound of Mars's Purugly, snarling as its claws dug into Bailey's wing.

"You're just like me," the gladiator said again, blinking away the humming in her mind, shaking her head. "Tell your Purugly to leave my Staravia alone, and release the Abra. I don't want to fight you. You don't deserve it."

Mars flinched back, as if the words had cut deeper than any sword.

Then, as she stumbled back, Nova slashed her sword into the Abra's net.

"_No_!" Mars cried out. She rushed forwards, her fingers already hooking around the net, but it was too late. Between a blink at the next, the gladiator had cut through the red chains bounding Abra – letting the psychic-type teleport away instantly.

With a growl, Mars grabbed Nova by the collar and slammed the gladiator's head to the ground.

"I am _nothing _like you," she hissed. "Don't give me that Twinleaf bullshit now. You were there because you wanted to look after your mother. I was there because I had nowhere else to go."

Nova's head spun from both the visions and the pain that lanced through her skull. And yet, she forced herself to smile weakly, shaking her head as she said, "But we're both here now…"

"Cyrus gave me somewhere to go."

"Cyrus _murdered _his daughter and wife."

"He's trying to make up for it. So I would stay out of our way, you hear?"

Nova only spat in her face.

And so, Mars turned to her Purugly and scowled. "Kill it. Kill the Staravia."

That's when November learnt that – Twinleaf or not, gladiator or not, missing leg or not – Mars was still a bitch.

* * *

"…_bailey. wake up…" _

The Staravia could hear the voice in his head, even as he slept. Or maybe it was _because _he slept. It was a familiar voice – so familiar that it hurt. Or maybe that was another sort of pain. There was pain all around him as he slept, bleeding his dreams in red, his wing aching as he broke in and out of sleep and pain and hell.

"…_bailey. wake up…" _

He didn't want to wake up. It hurt too much to pry his eye open. And he was so tired. Something in that Purugly's gaze had made him so sleepy… so exhausted… so…

"…_nova needs you…" _

Another jab of pain. Down his left wing. The left wing that had been broken before he had met…

"…_she needs you to survive…" _

Nova. It had been Nova that had saved him. That had taken him, even though his wing had been broken. Where was she now? Where was _he _now? Why was he sleepy? Why did it hurt so much?

"…_she needs you to live…" _

The voice was clearer. Sharper. Deadlier.

And finally, he recognised it.

It was the Darkrai. The one that had followed his gladiator around since Solaceon. The one that sometimes gave him nightmares at night sometimes, nightmares of Nova dying, of his fellow Pokémon dying. Making him want to be stronger. Aim straighter. Fight harder.

Why wasn't he giving him a nightmare now? Why?

"…_fine. if you insist…" _

And, as another slice of pain ripped through his wing, the Bailey felt the nightmare creep over the bloody red screen that was his eyelids. He saw his gladiator again, smiling until she wasn't, laughing until she was bleeding in a puddle, having a sword buried right between her eyes over and over again while he just stared and watched.

While he just looked on, like a coward.

_Be stronger. _

_Aim straight. _

_Fight harder. _

"…_and wake the fuck up…" _

Finally, Bailey forced his eyelids open – even as sleep urged them back down.

And when he awoke, he felt stronger. He felt bigger. He felt little pain, even though blood was streaming down his wing.

A wing that was too big to belong to a Staravia, but just right for a Staraptor.

Bailey the Staraptor took one glance at the Purugly, who was staring down at him – eyes wide, blood staining its claws.

Then, with a harsh caw, he tore his claws into the Purugly's back and heaved it into the air. Even with his bleeding wing and pained rasps, even with his squirming lungs and aching heart, he felt no fear with the Darkrai in his shadow.

They flew higher and higher with the Purugly. Over branches. Over the rustling leaves of trees. Touching the soft breaths of the clouds.

Holding on tightly with his claws. Aiming it perfectly over his target. Knowing that he would not miss, as he had always done before.

_Be stronger. _

_Aim straight. _

_Fight harder. _

And the Staraptor let the Purugly fall right onto Mars.

Then, as the healer cried out, Bailey the Staraptor landed on his gladiator's head and cawed proudly. He only felt slightly embarrassed about the whole spectacle once the Darkrai slipped out of his shadow and back into Nova's.

Meanwhile, Nova kicked the Purugly off Mars, watching as both the healer and her Pokémon took shallow breaths. Then, she planted her boot softly over the healer's chest.

"We are _almost _the same," Nova said. "You've been a gladiator, and I am a gladiator. You've been to Twinleaf, and I am from Twinleaf. We're both murderers, and we're both pieces of shit."

Mars grunted in protest, but Nova pushed her down with a gentle kick.

"But you know what makes us different, Mars?"

The Staraptor's blood fell onto Nova's face as she leaned down real close and whispered into Mars's ear.

"I learnt how to hunt for my supper. And you didn't."

And she left the healer and her Purugly there in the night, her heart and mind already set on a final vision that had seized her mind upon seeing her Staravia evolve.

"_Where are you going, Mars?" _

"_Twinleaf." _

"_Why?" _

_A beat. A short laugh. _

"_I'm going to learn how to hunt for my supper." _

* * *

After bandaging Staraptor's wing – for what felt like the millionth time for the poor gladiator – Nova stormed straight into the tavern, smiling weakly as pirates hooted and cheered and asked her about the number of Gyarados she had slaughtered.

She only had time to mutter a quick _twenty-bloody-eight _before rushing down towards the Lord Backlot.

To her absolute surprise, he was playing cards with a few other pirates. And though he was scowling and accusing them all of cheating, Nova still saw him sigh and place a few pieces of gold onto the table in defeat.

"Fancy that," she said to him, grinning wickedly. "The respectful Lord Backlot likes himself a bit of betting?"

He scowled. "I…" He froze as he caught sight of the Staraptor on Nova's head, the blood soaking the bandages on his wing, and the drops of scarlet that had dried over the gladiator's brow. "November, what _happened _to you? We cleaned you up after the race."

"I need to talk to you. In your manor."

He nodded, but his voice faltered as his gaze wandered over to behind Nova's shoulder, where Lady Spiral sat with Barry.

A gladiator – one of the men that had survived Nova's ship by flying to shores on his Pelipper – was edging closer to Lady Spiral, his hand snaking up her arm, landing far too close to her chest.

"Leave me alone," Lady Spiral said with a hiss.

The gladiator grinned. "Naw, Lady Spiral, you know you want it."

"I want you to kindly piss off."

"Oh, don't be like that-"

Across the tavern, Nova heard Legionary Wake yell something to the gladiator about keeping his hands to himself and his balls tied with a piece of string. Then, all the pirates were upon the gladiator, their bodies lined up like a human shield as they shoved the man away from their captain's wife, their hands curled into fists.

Nova smiled as the gladiator was sent running out of the tavern in nothing but his underthings, his britches and blouse ripped from his body.

Even Lord Backlot was nodding at the pirates. Maybe not fondness in his eyes as his gaze found Wake, but certainly not disgust either.

"See?" Nova said to him. "They're not so bad for pirates, are they?"

Lord Backlot only rolled his eyes.

* * *

Legionary Wake and Barry were drunk by the time they had shut the tavern down and dragged them to the Backlot Manor. At first, Nova just watched them make utter fools of them, with Wake insisting they duel on the table and Barry agreeing in a heartbeat.

So, as the two fought on the table – with the knives used for spreading butter – Nova faced Lord Backlot and Lady Spiral, who she could barely see past Barry and Wake's stumbling legs.

"I've been having visions."

Lord Backlot cocked his head to the side. "Visions?"

"Of the past. And I think the future, too."

"_And _she has a Darkrai riding in her shadow," Barry added, crying out as the flat of Wake's knife landed on his eye. "That bloody_ hurt_!"

Wake frowned. "I thought ye were bloody blind?"

"Just because you don't have bollocks, doesn't mean it won't hurt when I kick you there, aye?"

"Oh, aye- oi! What did ye say about my bollocks, lad?"

"What bollocks?"

"You bloody-"

Nova's shadow leaked out, then, forming the shape of Darkrai.

"…_she is having visions, aye. she has a darkrai in her shadow, aye. and when she saw an abra today that was tied by the wrists, she felt that pain in her own wrists. aye?..." _

Legionary Wake stopped sparring Barry at the sight of the Darkrai. Barry heard the legionary's knife drop and cheered. "What's my name? Barry! Barry the Beast! Barry the-"

He was silenced as he stepped of the table and fell onto the rug.

Neither the legionary, Lord Backlot, nor Lady Spiral said a word. They just stared at the Darkrai, who had settled himself in the seat beside Nova. Their jaws dropped. Their hands on their hearts.

Finally, Legionary Wake cleared his throat and turned to Nova.

"Lass, what _are_ you?"

Lord Backlot nodded. "Aye, what _are _you?"

"Come up with your own questions, old man."

"Don't call me old man, you little-"

"Shut up, both of you!" Lady Spiral snapped, leaping to her feet. "Let me… I'm going to get the scrolls."

She was only gone for minutes, though she did miss the glorious minute where Legionary Wake tried to touch Darkrai and yelped as his hands went straight through the shadows, flinging himself into his father-in-law's arms.

When she _did _return, Lady Spiral spread out a long piece of paper – crumbling, brown paper – across the table. And, as Nova's eyes stumbled over the letters – letters that she didn't even recall seeing with Bebe – she flushed.

"I can't read," she admitted.

Lady Spiral didn't even shoot her a glance of pity. "Even if you could read, you wouldn't understand it. It's in ancient writing. I, myself, can only understand a little bit, even though I've studied it all my life."

Nova turned to her companion beside her. "Darkrai, can you help?"

"…_i can…" _

There was silence as Lady Spiral pushed the scrolls towards the Darkrai, who only pushed it back with a gust of black wind.

"…_you asked if i can, not if i will…" _

"Arsehole."

From beneath the table – though, Nova had no idea how he had found himself there – Barry called out, "So, we have Galactic Healers haulin' their rumps after Meryl and her Abra, aye? And we also have some bastard trying to kill you, Nova?"

"Aye," Nova answered. "Except, I think… I think the person who wants to kill me has nothing to do with the Galactic Healers. I think it might be anyone that I've pissed off. Volkner. Maybe Fantina. Or me father, whoever the hell he is. Someone who just doesn't want me to become… big."

"Aye. And the Galactic Healers and their bloody kiss-arse love for Meryl and her Abra?"

Nova frowned at that, glancing back to Lady Spiral.

"When I was coming to Hearthome, I met their leader," the gladiator explained. "Cyrus. And he was singing a song. I'm not sure if it means anything but…"

Lady Spiral's eyes shone. "Could you sing it for us? As best as you remember it?"

Strangely enough, Nova _couldn't _forget it. It had been trapped in her ears for the past few weeks, hissing at her before she slept and when she awoke. And so, with ease, Nova opened her mouth and sang.

_A will of steel, a heart of gold_

_A mind both young and old_

_A ring of death – no pulse, no breath_

_Of champions both brave and bold_

_Three souls living, five souls dead_

_And one ready to create the end_

_Oh, adamant, oh, lustrous, come to Spear Pillar_

_For the final roar of time; the final special rend…_

And, as the words slipped from her mouth, a single section of the scrolls began to glow – blue and pink lights streaming from the pages, shining so bright that even Darkrai seemed stunned.

Then, when it was all over, Lady Spiral cleared her throat.

"It's a spell," she explained. "To raise Dialga and Palkia. Rulers of time and space. And this spell… it also allows you to control them."

Lord Backlot's eyes turned wide. "_Control_ Dialga and Palkia?"

"Aye. The song is actually a set of instructions." Lady Spiral gestured over at the words, frowning. "You need the three special people – the will of steel, heart of gold, mind both young and old. It says here that Azelf, Mespirit and Uxie – the three lake spirits – can tell you who they are."

"…_only if you ask politely…" _

Barry's words were muffled beneath the table as he said, "Do you think it's the twins? Meryl, Ulysses, and the Abra?"

"Aye, but who is the third?" Lady Spiral pointed out. "It says they are _people_. When one dies, a new is born – but they will always be human. It says nothing about an Abra."

"Maybe the twins _are _the lake spirits!"

Legionary Wake only smiled pitifully. "No, Barry. The lake spirits ain't humans. They look like… Have you ever seen a Tentacool?"

"No."

"What about a Tentacruel?"

"I beg yer pardon, Legionary Wake, but I haven't even seen me own bloody feet."

Lord Spiral cut them off with a clap of her hands. "_Anyways_, it also says that the three special people create the Adamant Orb, which allows you to summon and control Dialga only."

"And Palkia?" Lord Backlot asked.

"That's what the ring of death is for – made by champions both brave and bold. According to these scrolls, a champion means anyone who has been blessed by the queen or king of Sinnoh."

Legionary Wake's face paled. "The legionaries…"

"Aye," Lady Spiral said. "The Galactic Healers need five of you. And he needs you to be dead."

"Well, fuck me gently."

"The five dead bodies should give you the Lustrous Orb, which allows you to summon and control Palkia. Except… it says that the main reason anyone would try this spell is if they were to do something foolish. Like… turning back time?"

"Well, fuck me very hard."

Lord Backlot ignored the legionary, asking, "But why summon Dialga? Why turn back time?"

They all turned to Nova, who hadn't spoken in a long, long time. She was just staring down at the scrolls, her stomach roiling.

Because she knew exactly why Cyrus would want to turn back time.

"He wants to go back and save his daughter and wife," she whispered – so quietly that the others had to lean in to hear her. "He wants to fix his mistake."

Lord Backlot exchanged a glance with his daughter. Even Legionary Wake furrowed his brow.

But Nova felt the gears in her head turning.

If Cyrus were to succeed, he would have to kill five of the legionaries. Volkner and Fantina, Nova didn't give a damn about. But Roark? Wake? Sweet, little Maylene?

And if he _did _succeed, turning back time, saving his daughter and wife…

Would Lucas ever have become a knight, if his sister and mother were alive?

Would she and Barry ever have met him? Become gladiators? Become something other than dirt on rich folks' boots?

"If we turn back time, _all _of this will be destroyed," Lady Spiral said softly. "Some things may stay the same, but some things…"

Her eyes landed on the Darkrai, who had melted back into Nova's shadow.

"I have a suggestion," Lord Backlot finally said, reaching out to ruffle his daughter's hair. "As clever as Spiral is, she doesn't know as much as the elders of Celestic. If you go there, they may give you more advice. For now, I say we all have some rest. It's been a long day."

Barry and Nova thanked the three before stalking back to their rooms, where their Pokémon were sleeping soundly. And, as soon as Nova confirmed that they were out of earshot, they squeezed each other's hands, their voices low as they said the exact same words to one another.

"We need to stop Cyrus."

* * *

**I've taken a few creative liberties, as always. You know that weird moment where you chase the Team Galactic member from Pastoria to Lake Valor and... literally nothing happens? Yeah, I decided to use Mars instead. Mars, who actually has a past! **

**Once again, thank you to everyone dropping in those follows/favourites/reviews! I really appreciate the support. I've also got a new poll up on my profile, so if you get the chance, feel free to pop in and give it a vote! **

**That's all for today, folks! Have a great weekend!**


	33. Chapter XXXII

**Chapter XXXII**

Nova hadn't expected the tears that welled up in her eyes as she farewelled Lady Spiral, Legionary Wake, and Lord Backlot. She liked to imagine that it had been because Wake had squeezed her in his arms so tightly that she couldn't breathe, but part of her knew that there was more to it. Especially after Lord Backlot gently pressed his hand to her cheek.

"Whoever your father is," he said, "he missed out on the second-best girl in the world. The first, of course, being Lady Spiral."

Nova snorted at that, jabbing a finger towards Spiral's belly. "Maybe third-best. We still don't know if you'll be havin' a granddaughter or a grandson."

Then, when she was hugging Lady Spiral for herself, she felt the lady whisper in her ear.

"Thank you for everything, November," she said. "I don't know what you got into my father…"

"I got some ale into him, that's what."

Lady Spiral shook her head, smiling. "Stay safe for me, alright? And look after Barry."

"Always."

They turned towards the other gladiator, who was clutching onto Legionary Wake. The two girls rolled their eyes as they noted that both Barry and the legionary were sobbing freely, like lovers that were being torn apart.

"I can't believe this be farewell," Legionary Wake was saying between wheezes.

"I'll meet you at the altar one day, Legionary Wake!"

"I'll be the one in white, aye?"

Even the Darkrai, tucked away in Nova's shadow, sighed.

"…_i am embarrassed to be within a close proximity of these two…"_

Nova grinned. "Piss off to Twinleaf then, will you?"

"…_i fear that is still not far enough…" _

Their teams were ready for travel – all the packs were filled with berries and bandages, the Pokémon were impatiently awaiting Barry, and, at the crack of dawn, there wasn't a single gladiator in sight.

"This is harder than that time I ripped out a lad's tongue," Wake said.

Barry frowned. "You ripped out a lad's tongue?"

"I thought he was stealing me boat, so I, well, I ripped his tongue out. Turns out, he was just one of the cleaners."

"Well, piss and blood, I dunno if I can meet you at the altar anymore."

"You can't, anyways," Nova cut in, "because he's _married_. Now let's _go_."

* * *

As she and Barry made their way back to Hearthome, Nova couldn't help but wish Fantina had been with her. Not because she liked her, but because she desperately wanted to see the legionary crawl through the marshes in her oversized gowns.

The forest trees had thinned, and the ground had given way to a marsh of tall reeds – with the dirt of the ground nothing but sludgy water beneath their boots. Even the bark of trees were damp with a smattering of moss, and Nova found herself clinging to them as she took step after step in the ankle-deep mud.

"Say, I'm thinkin'," Barry was saying, his Prinplup guiding him through the thick mud. "I wanna catch another Pokémon. Ya know, to keep Prinny here some love."

Nova looked at her own Pokémon. Leila the Roselia – the queen of brilliant ideas – was riding atop Bailey the Staraptor, her vines stretched down as she lifted Tric the Monferno and Rhys the Luxray in the air so that they didn't have to trudge through the mud. Only Owl the Gastrodon seemed to _enjoy _the mud, and she was slipping and sliding through the reeds, coating her gladiator with mud.

"Well," Nova said, turning back to her friend, "the only thing we'll be catchin' here is Mud-Shit."

"What kind of Pokémon is that?"

"It looks like shit, it smells like shit, and it tastes like shit."

Barry grinned. "I didn't know you were a Pokémon."

"Oh, piss off."

"…_you have_ _to admit, that one was good…" _

"You too!"

Barry laughed as Nova kicked at the mud, sending dirt splattering over his face. "Say, is that the colour of me scarf? The colour of shit?"

"Nay. Try again tomorrow."

"Damn." The boy reached behind his head, rubbing at the mud on his hair. "Imagine that, though. Two folk from Twinleaf, and we both have four legionary crystals. We're gonna be legends one day, Nova. I can feel it."

Nova took one long look at his pensive smile and sighed. "Aye. I suppose."

"I suppose, though, becoming a legend comes with costs. Bebe, Star…" He trailed off, silent for a moment. Then, shaking it all off – shaking the pain from his heart as easily as dust from a tunic – he grinned. "So, yer name. What're you gonna change it to?"

"Not sure yet. Any ideas?"

Barry paused for a second, mid-step in the mud. "Well, I still think August suits. You look like a Gussy to me."

"You don't know what I look like."

"Well, I know what I _think _you look like, and that's a Gussy."

Nova couldn't help it – she laughed. But, even then, she knew her smile didn't reach her eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep with the thought of Cyrus, of Mars, of the spell that needed five dead legionaries. Even at the Oreburgh Mines, she hadn't been able to concentrate.

"I say we take a rest," she finally said, dropping her gear in the only patch of _clean _grass that she could find. "Eat some of the pie Lord Backlot packed for us. Then, we continue."

At the sound of pie, both Barry and all the Pokémon agreed, racing to dig through the pack.

Only one Pokémon hovered away for a bit, his eyes locked onto his trainer.

Tric the Monferno had known his gladiator for the longest. He could see the exhaustion weighing her down, could feel the concern in her gaze even with the Darkrai eating up all of the fear. And he knew exactly how to cheer her up.

From the corner of his eye, he could see two Rapidash and a Ponyta – their scent more familiar than they should have been. The two Rapidash were looking straight at Nova, their eyes wide, their limbs frozen with-

With fear?

And suddenly, the Monferno realised. And he grinned.

It was the two Rapidash that had been carrying Lucas's cart when they had first met him near Twinleaf. Tric had been the one to destroy their carriage, and after that, the two Pokémon had gone running.

Oh, it was going to be _fun_.

Tric turned to Nova, who was just raising a piece of pie to her face. Then, sticking his tongue out at her, he snatched the pie from her hands and ran.

His gladiator looked at him, completely stunned. Then, she scowled.

"Tric, you _bastard_."

She chased after him, leaving Prinplup to exasperatedly explain the situation to Barry. Her feet sliced through the mud as she ran, glaring but also fighting back a grin as she caught up to the Monferno, as he threw some mud at her, as he leapt into the air and landed on-

Nova froze as she saw the Rapidash. As she saw Tric ride on one, racing away with her pie, leaving her with a second Rapidash and a Ponyta who were looking at her as if she was a walking glimpse of hell.

And even though the Rapidash lurched back at the sight of her, Nova didn't freeze. With Darkrai sucking away every last bit of fear, she grabbed hold of the Pokémon, hissing as it yanked away, as it stomped its hooves and tossed its head.

But Nova would be damned if she let her Monferno run off with _her _slice of pie.

With sweat already clinging to her head from the heat of the Rapidash's flames and the running, Nova swung her leg onto the Pokémon and rode – launching it through the mud, galloping until she could see Tric's tail waving in the air.

And even she couldn't help the faint smile on her face as the hooves shattered the mud beneath her, as the Rapidash stomped and surged its way through the marshes until it had caught up to its mate. Straining her back and legs, Nova reached to the side, stretching her arm out to where Tric was riding his own Rapidash, and snatched the pie from his fingers.

Then, she felt the air rush out of her lungs as she realised she was racing straight into a tree.

"Arceus, _stop_!"

There was a dart of light – one that had Nova and Tric both wincing. One that stopped the Rapidash in its tracks.

And, once the light was gone, Nova found herself staring at the twins. Meryl, Ulysses, and their Abra.

There was another blink of light. Another stab of pink, yellow, and blue. Another hiss of the Rapidash.

And the twins were no longer twins, nor was the Abra an Abra.

They were three Pokémon, hovering in the air, each with two tails and a red jewel encrusted over their head. One blue-grey, one slightly pink, and one with a yellow face.

"…_ah, you three. it's been a while…" _

Nova felt her stomach churn as Darkrai crept out of her shadow. Tric jumped off his Rapidash in an instant, clinging tightly onto Nova as they watched the three floating Pokémon squeal and rush to hold the Darkrai.

The two Rapidash fell silent behind her as Nova stepped towards the three creatures.

"Barry was right, wasn't he?" she asked them. "Meryl, Ulysses, the freaking Abra… they don't exist. It was you three."

The pink one tilted her head to the side and smiled. "_Mes_?"

"And you three are Azelf, Mespirit and Uxie. The three lake spirits."

They didn't answer her. But Darkrai did.

"…_clever girl…" _

Then, the three lake spirits were gone, leaving Nova with a bewildered bunch of fire-types and a chuckling Darkrai.

But, just before they had left, Nova had caught one last glimpse of the blue one – of Azelf. She had seen him make a small sound, prying the pie from Nova's hand with sheer will and bringing it into his own mouth. Then, he raised his stubby little hand – if it could even be called a hand – to his mouth in a plead for silence.

Nova nodded.

And he was gone.

* * *

Nova didn't know how long she had been gone for. So, as quickly as she could, she rode the Rapidash back to Barry, with Tric riding its mate. They had expected the mud, the dirt, the moss.

But they certainly hadn't expected to be shot at.

"Thieves!"

It was a voice she recognised, but upon seeing the arrow land near the Rapidash's hooves, Nova didn't stop to see who it was.

"Darkrai, go see who it is," she hissed.

"…_but i like to keep things interesting…" _

They rode through grey slabs of barren rock, through the thinning pine trees that were protruding through the mud. A blast of pink came rushing out from behind them – thick and blaring, quicker than the wind, burning into a tree.

Tric turned on his Rapidash to spit out a few embers in their paths, and Nova whispered to her own mare as it combed through the reeds, asking her to move faster, breathe quicker, dodge the pink streams of light that came flashing beside them.

The two Rapidash pumped their legs, frantic. Rushing. Neighing in protest.

But, finally, even Tric's fire wasn't enough to push their assailant back. And, just as Nova was about ready to ditch the Rapidash and run, she saw the pink light sail closer and closer to her, saw it wrap around the mares and hold them still.

Nova's arm strained to find her sword as she felt the shimmering light wrap around her, knock her sideways off the Rapidash, and raise her and Tric into the air. The world tilted as she hovered there, light clinging onto her, holding her upside down and letting her hair fall over her face.

"I've been looking for these Rapidash since I lost them in Twinleaf," the voice murmured. "And I will not let—oh, shit, _Nova_?"

Nova blew at her hair, past the web of black threads, and winced. "How do you do, Sir Lucas? Care to put me down?"

The pink light – coming from the Alakazam beside the knight – rolled his eyes. The pink light immediately swept back down, and Nova swore as she was dropped right into a pool of mud. Then, seconds later, she felt a flash of heat as Tric fell right onto her stomach.

"I suppose this is where you call me a piece of shit," Lucas mused, offering her a hand.

Nova held it and yanked him down into the sludge beside her. Mud fell over his armour, into his mouth, but he still threw off his helm and held the gladiator tightly in his arms.

"I missed you," he breathed into her hair.

She let herself close her eyes, let herself stop thinking for a second. "I missed you too, you big piece of shit."

"Oh, for Arceus' sake-"

His words were cut off, as usual, by Nova, who had shoved his face deeper into the mud. When he sat up, ready to strangle her, she was already on her feet and grabbing at one of the Rapidash, her eyes shining.

"Care for a race, Sir Lucas?"

* * *

Neither of them had ended up winning. For, in the last second, just as their Rapidash were about to trample over Barry, Tric the Monferno had come racing along – somehow managing to cling onto a screaming Ponyta – and ended up beating them both. He was instantly with the other Pokémon, who were resting by the grass, doing an impersonation of how he whooped their arses in the race, beaming with pride until Barry's Prinplup rolled her eyes and spat water onto his face.

With a single, exchanged glance, Nova and Lucas had decided never to speak of the race again.

"I hear someone walkin' like they have a stick shoved up their arse," Barry said, squinting as he listened to the knight and gladiator move towards him. "Which means… Lucas? That you?"

Lucas snorted. "I believe that's Nova who walks like that."

"Naw, she walks like she has _two _sticks shoved up her arse."

"You two _are_ the sticks up my arse," Nova told them, plopping herself down beside Barry. She offered Lucas some pie, and as they ate, Barry flashed his legionary crystal to his sponsor and told him the story – though, how reliable that story was could be questioned.

"So, right, we watched Wake play _Issabellare Swanne _in _The Nigh is Twigh_, and while he was talkin' 'bout true love, I just _know _he was lookin' at me. I didn't see it, aye, but I just _know_."

"Barry, he never spoke 'bout love-"

Barry cut off his friend with a wave of his hand. "And _then, _there was some bloody drama about a gladiator fallin' for his patron, and apparently they're supposed to _die_ unless they're as rich as Prince Volkner, so I think you ought ta' stop fancying me, Lucas, aye?"

With a roll of his eyes, Lucas chuckled. "I promise to stop fancying you, Barry."

"Good. Now, there was some Bibarel blood everywhere and we faked a couple of deaths, and… oh! Legionary Wake and I duelled, and I bloody won, and then we had our legionary battle, and Nova told a couple of Gyarados that they were bitches, they got pissy, Nova got pissy, all the pirates got pissy, and then we won our legionary crystal."

"You forgot to add the fact that Leila-"

"And _then_ we found out that the Galactic Healers are trying ta' find some spirits that look like Tentacool, and they're gonna kill five legionaries just so that they can turn back time. And now we're here."

Lucas had paled at those last words, and as he eyed the gladiator carefully, Nova took in his face.

She wondered if he would support his father. She wondered if he, too, wanted to turn back time – maybe save his sister and mother.

"I think it's a bit mad, is what I think," Barry said, shrugging. "Hate to break it ta' ya, Lucas, but I think yer father has more sticks up his arse than Nova."

Nova bit her lip. This was her chance to know for sure.

"I wouldn't say it's _mad_," she said hesitantly. "What do you think, Lucas? Would you do it?"

She winced at her own words, hoping desperately that it had sounded as innocent and casual as it was supposed to sound.

If Lucas noticed that worry in her eyes, he didn't say a word about it. He just smiled warmly at her.

"I wouldn't change the past for all the gold in the world," he told her.

"Not even to save the folk you love?"

Lucas didn't even blink. He just reached out and patted her hand.

"Not even to save them," he admitted. "Because, eventually, they'll still die. All that matters is that we remember them, and we let ourselves love other folk."

"…_sop…"_

And, as he choked on a laugh when Barry forced him into a hug, Nova looked at the two boys – the two boys she loved more than she thought she ever could – and found herself laughing despite herself.

"I say, we head to Hearthome and drink to all of this," she said. "Rhys and Bailey evolving, Barry's fourth legionary crystal, and finding love in other folk. Aye?"

They all agreed, slinging on their packs and hauling themselves onto either a Rapidash or Bailey. Lucas had pointed out that the Ponyta was a baby – or, well, an _accident_, as Nova had deemed it – and had given it to Barry, who had named it Novemba.

And, just as they left, Nova and Tric gave each other a long look.

For now, they would keep their knowledge of the lake spirits – of Mespirit, Uxie, and Azelf – to themselves. She knew she would have to tell Lucas eventually, considering the pain he had felt when Mespirit, herself, had gotten hurt in the Galactic Healer's chambers.

But, as of now, she just wanted to drink. Laugh.

And tell that blasted knight that, bloody hell, she loved him too.

* * *

**Secret 5: Meryl, Ulysses and their 'Abra' are actually Mespirit, Uxie, and Azelf in disguise. **

**It was not supposed to be a secret, to be honest. I was hoping everyone would catch on based on the names but… Well, let's just say that you guys literally overthought it way too much. Anyways! That's our first secret reveal – and there are a lot more to come now. **

**Anyways, February has come to an end, and since it is the month of romance, I just _had _to bring Lucas back. **

**Also, not to toot my own horns, but I'm so excited for the next chapter because it features drunk Barry telling everyone about his love life from beginning to end. And, well… since I've already written it, I can confirm that it's glorious. In other words, toot toot. **

**Quick note: since university is starting and my timetable hates me, I will no longer be posting chapters at this exact time of the week. Instead, I'll be posting in on Saturday morning (in my time), which is approximately 24 hours later than usual. **


	34. Chapter XXXIII

**Chapter XXXIII**

They had reached Hearthome just as the silver stars were beginning to pepper themselves into the black canvas of night. The Pokémon had run straight into Lady Fantina's gardens, with Darkrai tucked inside Owl's shadow to make sure they 'behaved'. And though Nova felt sick in her stomach as she dumped her gear and stared at the flowers – at the place where she, Joy, and Bebe had once dressed up and fought over corsets – she managed to force away the tears. She thought about the tattoo on her back, about what Lucas had said about finding more folk to love, and took a long breath in.

Then, looping her arm into Barry's, the two gladiators and the knight strolled over to the tavern.

Lucas booked a private booth – one that had curtains shielding them away from the other booths. There were still scattered mugs along the table and small puddles that smelt suspiciously like piss, but the three were so cold and tired that they didn't give a damn.

The tavern had been a tangle of hot debates and flirty conversations, with stools and round tables everywhere, with drunken men and women who were telling all sorts of tales. Even though they were veiled behind thick curtains, Nova could still here the three musicians – one strumming a lyre, one beating a drum, and one singing a tune about some lad who couldn't woo a woman.

And so, once the sweet serving lass had slapped a tray loaded with pints of ale onto their table and left, Lucas pulled off his helm and they started to drink.

Nova, herself, only sipped slowly at her mug. Instead, she kept sliding mug after mug towards Lucas, hoping that he would drink the most, that she could finally get _somewhere _with him.

Thankfully, Nova had been blessed with Barry, who had insisted that they speak about their first loves.

"I remember my first love," he was saying, leaning back and sighing, two empty mugs already before him. "It was when I was a wee lad of six. She had the sweetest voice, was always so kind, always kissed me so gently on me head."

From the opposite side of the booth, Lucas cocked his head to the side. "What happened to her?"

"Nothing," Barry said, shrugging. "Nova wouldn't let me pursue her. Aye, Nova?"

"That's because she was me fucking mother, you dolt."

Barry pouted at his friend's words. "My heart was crushed."

"Oh, to hell with you."

With a grin stretched across his face, Barry tried feeling for a third pint. Only once he had drained the glass did he say, "My second love… Sir Riley. When he saved our arses on Nova's thirteenth birthday."

He was too drunk to feel the girl tense up beside him, and he was too blind to see the knight wince from across him. So, with his words already beginning to slur, Barry was ready to recount the story from beginning to end when Lucas cut him off.

"I don't think you should love someone just because they saved your arse," the knight pointed out.

Nova felt her own lip curl as he said those words.

This was her chance. She should tell him. Then and there. While he was drunk enough to maybe let his guard down, with the empty mug tipped over in front of him.

"You're right," she told him. "It's far more interesting to fall in love with someone after they try arresting your arse, aye?"

She saw Lucas's eyes widen. Saw him understand her words. Saw him flush as he said, "Come again?"

But she never got the chance to speak. For, in that second, Barry had snatched up another mug – a mug that had actually been for Nova – and raised it high in the air.

"It depends, don't it?" he said. "I feel like you shouldn't love someone just 'cause they haul yer rump into a cell, but if ye like the chains and all, then… well, each to their own."

"Cheers to that," Nova chimed in, passing another mug over to Lucas, watching as he raised the glass to his lips and held it there.

Barry took a long sip and sighed.

"My next love was Nova."

Nova, herself, snorted at that. "I remember that. It lasted, what, seven minutes?"

"Eight," Barry corrected.

And though she hadn't seen him drink, Nova realised that Lucas had already drained his glass.

"You two had a thing?" the knight asked them.

"Oh, aye," Barry answered. "I liked Nova for a while, and so I told her. Her answer?" He raised his voice, making it sound like a fussy, high-pitched whine as he said, "_Aye, okay Barry, now shut up and let me bandage yer fingers, nonce!_"

Both Nova and Lucas laughed at the boy's piss-poor impersonation of his friend.

"You're a cruel one, November," Lucas pointed out with a wry smile.

"It gets _worse_," Barry quickly added. "I asked her for a kiss, and she said _aye_, but while I have me lips puckered for a good ol' smooch, she holds up a piece of stinkin' cheese and made me kiss that instead! And I kissed it for, what, a good ol' minute!"

Nova gently punched his shoulder. "It's not _my _fault that you couldn't tell the difference."

"And it ain't _my _fault that you kiss as good as stinkin' cheese!"

"Oh, aye? But how come when I _actually_ let you properly kiss me, you tried touching me face, and ended up ripping a full patch of me hair instead?" Nova shot back, shaking her head and turning back to Lucas. "Eight minutes later, we decided we just didn't work."

"Still, the best eight minutes of me life," Barry said wistfully.

"You sop."

Barry ignored her, instead, leaning back against the cold leather and taking a long breath. "After Nova, there was Julia. The first gal I ever tumbled with."

"You _what_?" Nova burst out, choking on her ale. "_Julia_? Barry, she was… You tumbled with _her_?"

Barry's grin was oh, so smug as he found her back and smacked it hard. "I had to recover from the heartbreak you left me with, sweetest Nova."

"Oh, please."

"Anyways, Julia, right?" the boy continued. "She was nice and funny and I knew she fancied me. And so, one mornin', she invited me to her house and we were getting it nice and good. I lasted, what, thirty seconds, and then her fucking _husband _walks in. Punches me in the eye, and sends me running off, naked as a babe."

Nova wasn't sure she had ever seen Lucas laugh so hard. He had his head buried in his hands, rubbing tears from his eyes, a third mug of ale empty beside him.

The girl, herself, would have been laughing, had she not felt realisation dawn on her.

"Hang on," she said, turning to Barry. "I remember you comin' back with a bruised eye once. Why didn't you tell me what happened?"

Barry grimaced. "I was too embarrassed."

"To admit you got punched in the eye?"

"To tell ya that I only lasted thirty seconds."

This time, Nova couldn't help herself. She threw her head back and laughed, reaching for another mug of ale, wondering how many more girls Barry had tumbled with from Twinleaf without her knowing.

"My next love was Joy," Barry said.

Lucas rolled his eyes, winking at Nova as he said, "Barry, at this rate, I think you fancy just about anyone who breathes in your face."

"This one is real! I know it!" the gladiator protested. "Even right now, I can't stop thinking about her, hearin' her voice, ya know?"

"Whatever you say." The knight then shot Nova a lazy smile, his elbows propped over the table. "What about you, Nova? Your first love?"

"My first love?" Nova repeated innocently. "Oh, it's more tragic than my eight minutes with Barry."

Lucas raised his brow. "Oh?"

"Aye. The first man I really loved told me that he loved me in Veilstone, and then he ran away."

Barry instantly spat out his drink. "Bastard!"

"Aye," Nova agreed. "I never got to tell him that I loved him. He even made it sound like loving me was a problem, ya know? Maybe he didn't like me because I'm from Twinleaf."

"I'll kill him, Nova," Barry promised, his voice low. "I'll kill him. Do you want me to bring you his heart after?"

But Nova wasn't really listening to her fellow gladiator. She was looking straight at Lucas, his pale face, his narrowed gaze. A challenge in her eyes.

"You can't be so sure," the knight murmured, fingering the helm on the table. "There may be more to him running away."

"Like what?" Nova asked.

Lucas frowned. "Like… he has duties. Obligations. And romancing a lass might get him in trouble."

"So, he loves his rank more than his girl?"

"Arceus, November, no, but-"

Barry cut him off with a cough. "Should I be giving you two a room?"

"_No_," Nova and Lucas snapped at once.

"Right, right." Barry shrank back into his seat, wincing. "Let's change the topic, then, since Nova's love life is far too shocking for us all. Lucas, who was yer first love?"

Despite herself, Nova leaned in as the knight thought about his answer. She took in everything – the way he smiled thoughtfully, the way his eyes shone with memory, the way his fingers wound themselves tightly around his helm.

"My first love was a girl named Roseanne," he finally said. "We grew up in Canalave together, but she never said much to me until I became a knight. She was nice enough, had a sweet smile and a sweet face, but… she wasn't what I was looking for."

Barry nodded thoughtfully. "And what were you looking for?"

"Someone that could see past me being a knight. Someone that would make me think. Someone that would surprise me."

"Surprise you, hey?" Barry grinned. "Well, I surprise you all the time. Maybe after all this gladiator business is done with, you and I could…" He trailed off, wiggling his brows. Lucas laughed.

"After Roseanne, there was Candice," he continued. With a grin that was so boyish and shy that Nova wondered if he had even drunk at all, Lucas added, "She and I only lasted two weeks, and I think I was actually a test to her. After our two weeks together, she decided that she didn't actually like men."

Barry slammed his hands on the table, snickering. "You must have been one hell of a bad lover, then."

"Aye. Though, I _did _last more than thirty seconds."

"Oh, aye, getting a lil' cocky now, aren't we?"

Nova raised her voice over Barry's slurred words, her curiosity getting the better of her as she set down her third pint and nudged Lucas with her foot beneath the table.

"Let's talk about Roseanne again," she said. "How did you finish it with her?"

Lucas smiled uneasily. "I just told her the truth."

"And what was the truth?"

"The truth is that I never let things go on if I know it's never going to last."

The words dug straight into her heart like a shard of glass.

Because, even though he had said it with a light shrug, she knew they were meant for her.

And, instantly, she regretted having the three pints of ale. She felt so tired, so awake, so angry, so upset, so madly _infatuated _with him, that she didn't know how to respond. What was she _supposed _to say? Was she supposed to ask him why he didn't think they would last? Was she supposed to throw her ale in his face? Kick him beneath the table?

She didn't know. She was tired. Awake.

And, most of all, her pride was hurt.

So, November stood on her feet and stormed out of the booth, nearly slipping on a puddle of ale on her way out, the curtains thick enough to muffle the knight's sigh as he swore.

"Oh, shit."

* * *

Nova felt like her heartbeat was coming from all over her body – from her palm, from her neck, from her freaking _toes_ as she wove her way around the tavern. There were so many colours mixing together, with folk gambling and carousing, singing and howling and laughing and-

"Do _not _touch me."

_Joy's voice. _

She was certain of it, even in her drunken haze. Pushing through the crush of people, stalking further into the tavern, she found herself near a little circle of folk around the bar. Sure enough, Joy was there, her back pressed against the table behind her as she brushed her hair from her eyes.

The poor girl's hands were trembling, and Nova caught the spilled tray and pools of ale by her feet. A few young men were hovering before her, their yellow teeth stretched in leering grins, their leather caps and coats stinking of salt.

"Oh, poppy, you spilt our ale," one of the men was saying. "I could complain to yer boss, or… you can make up for it."

Fury was scrawled over Joy's face, but Nova saw the fear in those eyes. The hesitance.

And so, she walked right up to the men and held Joy's hand. "Let's go."

"_Nova_?"

The healer stared and stared at the gladiator. At the four jewels shining along her belt. And Nova could see the tumult of emotions in those eyes – anger over her sister's death, sorrow over the way their friendship had unravelled, relief at the sight of someone who had cut through the men to come and help her, and a single pang of wonder as she remembered the flowers in Floaroma.

"Who's this?" one of the men – some lump of a man with striking orange hair – was asking, his eyes set on the gladiator. "Where're ya from, lass?"

"None of yer business," Nova answered curtly.

Just as she moved to drag Joy away, one of the men moved to stand over her. A few others had come over, tightening the little circle, no doubt waiting for the ruckus.

Nova took a long breath as she looked at the men around her. And she felt the fear in her chest lighten as a certain shadow came crawling into her own, so subtly that Nova would have missed it herself had she not heard his voice.

"…_hold yourself, nova…" _

"Well?" the man demanded. "You gonna tell us, lass?"

Nova turned and forced a polite smile, knowing all too well that a brawl would not do her any good – not with poor Joy shaking beside her.

"I best be off, sir," she said, as sweetly as she could manage. "I would hate to bother you."

"You've already bothered me," he pointed out. Stepping closer. His breath hot in her face. A cruel gleam in his eyes that reminded her all too well of her thirteenth birthday.

"…_hold yourself, nova…" _

Darkrai was right. She knew he was right. No doubt, he had been waiting in the tavern, keeping an eye on her all along, ready to step in when she was about to do something foolish.

"But I'm sure you'll be more than happy to make up for it," the man said.

His lip curled. And Nova felt her insides lurch with anger, with regret, with bloodlust.

"…_hold yourself…"_

And then, the man reached out and touched Nova on her chest.

"…_you know what? fuck it. destroy them…" _

Nova didn't need to be told twice.

Her knee smashed into the man's groin, and she grabbed him by his collar and slammed his big head into the nearest table. There was a sickening _crunch _that made the drunk men around her shrink back, but that wasn't nearly as awful as the sight of the man after Nova released him.

His lips were mashed in the corner, bleeding and raw, and his teeth…

Nova heard Darkrai laugh as she saw that the poor lad's front teeth were still buried in the wood of the table.

One of the men tried reaching for Nova, but this time, Joy's hand came darting forwards, smashing a wine bottle into his face. He stumbled forwards, and Nova caught him by the ear and shoved him onto the floor.

Everyone across the tavern was watching her – no doubt, a few of them recognising her.

And so, Nova pressed her boot against the man's chest and snarled.

"If you're gonna touch a lass or a lad or a freaking _Bidoof_," she said, "then make sure you fucking ask first, aye?"

One of the scullery maids was the first to cheer. And though most of the men backed away and winced rather than hooted and clapped, Nova didn't care.

For, in that moment, Joy had thrown her arms around the gladiator and held her tight.

_That, _she decided, was more important than anything.

* * *

Though Joy had to go back to work, she had promised to meet Nova by Fantina's gardens the next morning to natter about their weeks apart, about everything that they should have spoken about _weeks _ago.

For now, Nova stumbled through alley after alley, her mind only a little dizzy from the ale – but dizzy enough to realise that she had no idea how to get to the gardens.

And her shadow wasn't helping at all.

"Do I turn left here, or right?"

"…_well, it depends. are we talking your left, or my left?..."_

"Don't we have the same left right now?"

"…_of course not…" _

Nova groaned. "Okay, I'm turning left."

"…_are you sure that's a good idea?..." _

"Fine. I'll turn right."

"…_and are you sure that's a better idea?..." _

"Oh, you are such a piece of-"

Someone grabbed Nova by the elbow, holding her steady. And, as she breathed in the salt and metal, as she immediately decided she knew who it was, she still felt her breath catch as she turned and found Lucas staring at her.

"…_see? i told you that left was a better idea…" _

Nova ignored the shadow. She just stared at Lucas, who was no longer in his knight gear, but in his regular shirt and britches, frowning.

"You left the tavern an hour ago," he pointed out. "Barry and I left thirty minutes ago, but we couldn't find you at the gardens. He said you were probably alright, but I came looking, and… were you talking to yourself?"

She didn't answer him. She just remembered his final words to her at the tavern. The way it had stung her pride.

"You didn't need to come find me," she told him, her voice as cold as steel. "I'm fine."

The knight closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, with a gentle hand on her stomach, he guided her back, letting the lamplight wash over her face as he pressed her against the wall.

"I hurt you," he said. "You left the tavern because I hurt you."

Nova felt her pulse race, felt her cheeks turn warm.

He had never been this close to her – not like this, with one hand curled along her hip and one hand brushing her hair from her eyes. He had never looked at her like this so openly, with pain and desperation and _longing _churning in the blue of his eyes, with his mouth set in a firm line so close to her own.

"How much have you had to drink?" she whispered.

"Why?"

She placed her own hands on his chest, leaving them there. "Look at you. You're either piss drunk, or you're mad with stress. And I remember seeing about five empty mugs next to you when I left."

"Forget the drinks," he murmured. "I hurt you."

Not a question. A blunt, soft statement.

"Aye," she finally answered. "You did."

His hand moved from her face, down her cheek and throat, twirling a lock of dark hair.

"I'm sorry," he said, his breath impossibly close, his fingers trailing down to her hand as he added, "You're the last person I would ever want to hurt. When I said it in the tavern, I saw your eyes, and I felt like absolute shit. And I'm sorry. Oh, Arceus, November, I'm sorry for everything."

"Everything?"

He smoothed her hair again, the shadows beneath his eyes so deep that Nova wondered, once again, if he had drunk _more _than just five pints.

"This…" He raised their intertwined hands, holding it between them. "This can't happen. It _shouldn't _happen."

"Because you know it won't last? _We _won't last?"

"Aye."

Nova ignored her racing heart, ignored his pathetically heartbreaking frown, and pulled her hand away. "Well, in that case, good bloody night, Sir L-"

"Please, Nova, _listen_," Lucas cut in, his hand tugging at her shirt, drawing her close. "There are things you don't know. Things you _should _know, but I'm too much of a coward to tell you."

"Like what?"

His hand was in his hair, his voice urgent as he whispered, "Like… maybe I'm not who you think I am. Maybe I'm not me. Maybe I'm… Why are you looking at me like that?"

Because, despite her embarrassment and fury, despite the heat she felt in her blood as she felt Lucas hold her, Nova couldn't help but snort back her laughter.

"You sound absolutely mad, Lucas," she told him. "Whoever _you _think you are, and whatever you haven't told me, it doesn't really change anything. You're still the lad who has looked out for me, and you are still the lad who I really care about."

"Nova…"

She eased him back with her hands. "And you're piss drunk. I'm a little drunk, too, but I'm awake enough to know that we should talk about this when you're not drunk and sounding like a madman."

For a second, Lucas looked hurt. But he nodded begrudgingly and stepped back.

"Aye. You're right."

She reached for him and planted a quick, fluttering kiss on his cheek. "Shall we go to the gardens?"

"You go on ahead. I left something in the tavern." He offered her a limp smile. "The gardens are to the left."

"…_see? what did i tell you?..." _

But it was only after she and the knight had parted ways that Nova realised that, all along, Lucas's breath had never smelt of ale.

* * *

**50 followers? Check. 50 favourites? Check. A well-placed filler chapter of our favourite trio getting drunk to celebrate this? Check. **

**Seriously, though. Thank you to everyone who has supported this story – silent, or not. Thank you for all the reviews, for all the artworks, for all the music recommendations, for all the theories and kind words. Sinnoh is a region I am so ridiculously passionate about, and to have such a beautiful bunch of people join me… Words cannot express how grateful I am. Thank you very much! **

**Also, I know I said chapters would be delayed by 24 hours. But I had 30 seconds this morning while the kettle was heating, so here we are! **


	35. Chapter XXXIV

**Chapter XXXIV**

"So, Barry will probably be taking on Fantina soon, aye?" Lucas asked. "We should get training."

Nova, Barry, Lucas, and even Joy, sat in the gardens, surrounded by leaf loams, blade-like leaves, and clumps of willows. Though the healer and Nova had trailed through the iridescent blues and greens of flowers in the morning, watching the Wurmple eat away at stunted cabbages and fresh leaves – talking about everything except the small girl that had once travelled with them – the gladiator quickly noticed that Joy was still avoiding Lucas's gaze. Ignoring his every word. Choosing to focus on the Pokémon who were rolling around in the piles of leaves, instead.

"Aye, I do wanna battle Fantina," Barry agreed. "But… I think I wanna go to Celestic."

"Celestic?" Joy repeated. "Why?"

"Er… I hear the old folks there make the best ale?"

Nova rolled her eyes. She knew what Barry really wanted, knew that he was ready to put his gladiator journey on hold just to stop Cyrus. So, she turned to Joy and squeezed the healer's hand.

"Lucas's father is trying to summon Dialga and Palkia," she explained. "So, we're going to ask some old snots about how the spell works and how we can stop him."

The healer's eyes went wide. "Pardon? Summon Dialga and Palkia?"

"Aye," Barry chimed in. "So, let's go to Celestic."

Nova watched her friend carefully as he stood onto his feet, calling for Prin and his new Ponyta, named Novemba. And she caught the hesitance in his steps, the glint of reluctance in his eyes.

"Wait," she quickly said. "Let's split up. Joy and I can go to Celestic. Barry and Lucas can stay here, train, and kick Fantina's arse, aye?"

"Nova…"

She cut off her friend's protest by standing up and holding him by the shoulders. "You live your dream, Barry. Joy and I can do this."

"But…"

"And when you kick Fantina's arse, kick it twice. Once for me, once for yerself."

Finally, Barry cracked a grin and nodded. "Aye. Fine."

They started checking their packs, and Nova strolled over to her Pokémon. Her Luxray, Gastrodon and Staraptor were, for once, getting along – all of them huddled around Leila the Roselia, who had so gracefully won Nova her latest legionary crystal. They were all showing off their latest tricks; Rhys could make his fangs sizzle with electricity, Owl had learnt to spit muddy water from her mouth, and Bailey could fly in a _straight_ line.

Only Tric the Monferno stood to the side, watching them, frowning. Nova crouched down beside him.

"What's wrong, Tric?"

He didn't make a sound. He just folded his arms and pouted, glancing at the others through the corner of his eye.

Nova glanced back at her other champions. They had grown so much – Luxray was almost as tall as her, Staraptor was so big that he could carry Nova on his back, and even the Gastrodon could no longer be carried in her arms.

And then there was Tric, who hadn't had a proper fight since Oreburgh. Who was still quite small, and who had no tricks to show the others.

Nova smiled sympathetically as realisation dawned in on her.

"Tricy," she said, "you're _jealous_."

Tric shook his head stubbornly. Hissed as she reached out for his hand.

"You feel left behind, don't you?" she asked. "You don't feel like you're the boss anymore. Because, ya know, you're weaker and smaller."

"…_excellent work, nova. you sure know how to make someone feel better…"_

The Monferno looked at his gladiator in the eye, ignoring the shadow, and blinked as she moved so that she was sitting right beside him.

"I know what that feels like," she confessed. "Back in Oreburgh, when I saw Barry, and I saw the way he was dodging arrows and properly using a sword even though he couldn't see, and even beating Roark's arse… I didn't feel good. How could I look after him when I was so weak? I was sure I couldn't have beaten Roark. I was happy for Barry, but bloody hell, I felt like I was being left behind."

She then leaned closer and pressed her finger into Tric's chest.

"But then _you _changed my mind. You beat Frazer's arse, and even when I told you to run and save yourself because I thought _I _was going to die, you stayed with me. Right until the very end, you stayed with me. And I love you for that, Tricy."

Tric looked down at their intertwined hands, and the gladiator who had first stolen him.

"Besides," she suddenly said, shoving him gently, "Rhys and the lot still listen to you. You're still their cranky old mother. So quit mopin' and tell them to stop dawdling."

The Monferno grinned and stood, growling at his fellow Pokémon. And even though he was small, his voice was loud enough to rustle the leaves of the gardens. Soon enough, all of them – even freaking _Rhys _– were moving towards him.

And though the big electric-type scowled as Tric bossed him about, Nova smiled as she realised that, regardless, they all listened to the Monferno.

"I don't like you doing this," a voice suddenly said from behind her. "Celestic is far, you know."

Nova turned around to face Lucas, shaking her head. "I know. And I'll be fine."

"If my father hurts you…"

"He won't."

Lucas held his arms out, letting the gladiator fall into them. Then, with his mouth against her hair, he whispered, "Stay safe."

"Aye. And you, too."

And, from the other end of the gardens, oblivious to Nova, Joy raised a rather nasty finger towards the knight.

* * *

"So, you and the knight?"

Nova winced as the healer's clipped words. "Aye?"

"What's happening there?"

"Nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing to me."

"It's something, then."

The two of them were far from the faded daylight and deep into the rippling black air and the stagnant puddles that made Mt Coronet. Only Tric's flickering tail gave them any light as they moved further through the tunnel, shivering even though there was no wind, wincing as they smelt the dust and grime that wafted from scattered pieces of rags along the cave floors.

"He's going to break your heart, Nova," the healer said softly, clutching her Happiny tightly to her chest.

"…_the obvious solution is to not have a heart…"_

Nova didn't turn to face Joy. She just glanced down at her boots and sighed. "I know," she admitted. "But, leave that. We need to talk. About, you know."

"Bebe."

"Aye," Nova said softly. "Joy, I'm sorry. I'm really-"

Joy cut her off with a wave of her hand. "I'm sorry, too. You're not the only one who was looking after her. I was at the dance, too."

"It's not your fault."

"It's not yours, either." The healer's eyes were closed, and she had to stop – catching her breath, though they hadn't been walking for very long. "I shouldn't have slapped you, Nova. But when I read that note…"

Nova felt her throat catch. "Note?"

"There was a note on her body. Whoever killed her…" She choked on the word _killed_, as if it was too harsh of a word to stay aloud, as if her own mouth couldn't pronounce it. "They did it because they wanted you to go back to Twinleaf. They killed my baby sister as a fucking _threat_."

"Oh."

"Aye."

Nova stood dumbly, her heart hollow.

Someone really was out there, trying to send her back to Twinleaf. Someone had wanted her gone – before everything in Veilstone, even. But who? _Who_? Were they working for the Galactic Healers? Was it her _father_? Fantina? Freaking Volkner?

"I've been studying poisons," Joy suddenly said. "When I wasn't working in the tavern, I was studying. Each poison works differently, you know. Drapion poison works after a few hours, and leaves a sweat and blue lips – and you can't even taste it. Dustox poison, though, acts within seconds, and leaves almost no mark."

"Was that used on Bebe?"

Joy shook her head. "No. That was Zubat poison. I thought that, by doing some searching, I could find whoever had poisoned her, but there are Zubats freaking _everywhere_. The person just needs to live by a cave. All my searching… useless."

"I wouldn't say that," Nova pointed out. "You now know about types of poisons. When you do become a healer one day, then…"

She cut herself off as she spoke, her face flushing. Had she gone too far, to think that Joy still even wanted to be a healer?

But the healer only smiled sadly. "I'm already learning how to heal them. Pecha berries work best, but Kebia berries help with the stronger poisons – like Drapion poison."

"Does that mean that you still-"

"Aye. I'm… I'm going to be a healer, Nova. I'm going to do it. For Bebe."

Nova had to take a breath to stop herself from collapsing then and there from relief, from the ache in her heart, from the constant swirl of emotions that had her stomach roiling.

"I'm proud of you, Joy," she finally said, throwing her arms around the healer, squeezing the Happiny between them. "And I missed you."

Joy patted her back, smiling. "And I missed you, too."

* * *

When they finally moved out of the cave, they had prepared themselves to be assailed by light – by the sun, the blue sky, or even the dappled shade of trees.

They certainly hadn't expected the fog.

The trees were veiled in a mist so thick that Nova couldn't see the gnarled bark. Even at the edge of the woodland, where Celestic was supposed to lie, she only saw little huts that were mere silhouettes against a blanket of white.

"This isn't normal," Joy called out. "I think-"

That's when the yells came – throaty and rough, confused and demanding.

"They're invading the ruins! _Stop him_!"

Nova searched through the white for her Pokémon, frowning. "Bailey, I need you to blow away the mist. Owl and Tric – stay with Joy and Happiny, and look after them. Leila and Rhys? Let's go."

With the Staraptor gusting away as much fog as he could – hissing as the Pelipper releasing the mist tried to shoot water at him – Nova and her Luxray ran, the Roselia riding upon Rhys's back. The fog fell over them, and within seconds, she lost sight of her two Pokémon.

"They'll be alright, aye?" she asked her shadow. "Can you go check on them?"

The Darkrai only shrugged, making her shadow ripple.

"…_i can only be so many places at once…" _

"Oh, bloody hell."

* * *

Rhys the Luxray was in trouble.

He knew he was in trouble. He had just been racing after his gladiator when he lost her, the fog hovering over his fur, and when he had let out a low snarl to check on the Roselia riding with him, he felt his heart stop.

His back was lighter. Leila was no longer there.

And, when he glanced up, the Luxray felt his breath catch.

For there was Leila the Roselia, swinging from a Golbat's claws. Meters away from the pools of saliva that lay inside the Golbat's mouth.

Bailey was already there, swooping around the Golbat, groaning as he tried to strike it with his wing. Even Tric the Monferno had heard the Roselia's squealing, and he was there, yanking rocks from the crumbling cave behind him and hurling them towards the bat.

A hiss cracked through the air as the Golbat focused on the Monferno and the Staraptor. Its sharp glance only lasted a second, but it was enough for it to completely forget Leila. The Roselia reached out with her vine, and Bailey caught it with his claws, letting Leila find a spot on his back.

With the Golbat no longer holding Leila, Rhys leapt into the air, plunging his claws into the Golbat's wing. It swung around, using its teeth to catch the Luxray by the tail, and Rhys – for once – felt true, genuine terror as the fangs sank in harder and harder on his tail, slicing at the fur, making pain scream through him-

The Golbat reared back suddenly, its shriek harsh enough to rattle the fog as it dropped Rhys.

Only then did Rhys see that Leila was swinging from Bailey's talons with a vine, the two of them circling around the Golbat, with the Roselia hurling a tornado of petals towards the bat, striking it just below the eyes-

There was a scream as Leila's vine snapped around the Staraptor's claws.

Rhys was on his feet in seconds, his throat tight as he scrambled to catch Leila before the concrete floor beneath him did.

A soft bundle fell onto his back, and Leila sunk into his fur with a little cheer. And, with a nod towards the Monferno across from him and the Staraptor above him, they all exchanged a grin as they remembered the way they had first attacked Livia the Zubat months ago.

And so, when electricity and fire and wind came flying towards the Golbat, it really had no chance.

* * *

In the midst of the fog, Nova caught sight of a little tunnel where the air seemed to split open with a jagged streak of light – flickering yellow to shining green to a silver as slick as steel.

But, as she ran towards it, she felt someone yank her back, forcing her to fall in a tangle of limbs and hair and sweat.

"_You_," the pink-haired girl in the Murkrow mask sneered. "Again?"

Nova winced as Jupiter pressed her into the concrete – not just from the firmness of brick beneath her head, but also because Jupiter's body was so _heavy, _so stiff and rigid and-

She didn't move, even as Jupiter pulled a dagger from beneath her belt, even as the weapon flew at her.

It was so close that Nova could feel the cold metal lick her skin from inches away, could see its sharp point wink as Jupiter speared it between her eyes. In the last second, she pitched herself to the side, using her boot to kick the dagger out of Jupiter's hands, sending it sprawling onto the dirt.

Instantly, the gladiator lunged for it. Her hand just managed to wrap around the cold hilt when Jupiter yanked at her hair, her gloved hands raking into her scalp – too hard to be fingers, too sharp to be normal nails. Nova squirmed desperately against the Galactic Healer, coughing and choking and flailing-

Her head rattled as they fell to the ground. Nova flipped herself over until she was straddling Jupiter, swerving the dagger over the masked girl's neck.

Jupiter only laughed. "You really think _that _will kill me?"

"It's a dagger. Of course I think it will bloody kill you."

"Daggers can't kill me."

Nova stared down at the Murkrow mask, at the tufts of pink hair sticking out from behind it.

Then, she understood.

And she ripped the mask away from Jupiter's face. Stared at the flesh that was made of wood and twigs. At the leaves that hung from her lips. At the eyes that were surrounded by tree bark.

"You…" Nova said, pressing the dagger towards Jupiter's belly. "You're the Song Sister that's been helping Cyrus. You're the one who told him about the spell. You betrayed the Song Sisters."

Jupiter snarled. "Get off me."

"Why are you doing this? _Why_?"

"Get that dagger away from my stomach, you hear me?"

"What?"

The Galactic Healer – or, well, the Song Sister that had become a Galactic Healer – squirmed against Nova's tight grip, hissing. "You can burn me to the ground, but don't you dare stick that dagger into my stomach."

"Why?"

"My baby was there. My baby."

Nova had many questions in that second.

Why would Jupiter – and old Song Sister – betray the ladies of Eterna Forest for the Galactic Healers? Why had she helped Cyrus with the spells?

And what was that about a _baby_?

"I was once a human, like you," Jupiter said quietly. "I was married, and I was about to have a child. And then, when I was walking through Eterna Forest, someone shot me with their arrow. I _died_. And the Song Sisters thought it would be all good and noble to save me and turn me into a fucking tree. And do you know what happened to my _child_?"

Nova flinched back at the words – at the bite within the words.

"The baby never came out," Jupiter finished. "Because trees don't give fucking birth."

And, as the words came flying out of the girl's mouth, Nova was so busy thinking about the poor woman, the poor baby, the poor _wrongness _of it all, she didn't see Jupiter pull off her gloves. She didn't see the Galactic Healer use her twig-like hands, growing and stretching them out, curling them around the gladiator's neck.

By the time she _did _notice, it was already too late – the air was being snatched away from her as Jupiter squeezed tighter.

"Get off my girl!"

The words surprised both Nova and Jupiter, and between one blink and the next, the gladiator realised that the _old crone _of all people was there, slamming her fist into the Galactic Healer's wooden cheek.

There was a small crack, and Nova felt air rush back into her body.

"Go, November!" the old crone hissed, a Pokéball in her hand.

Nova staggered to her feet, her breaths quick and shallow as she touched her neck. "You again?"

"Go! In the chambers! _Go_!"

And, with a final glance at the old lady who had managed to pin down Jupiter, Nova rushed into the little cavern at the heart of Celestic.

* * *

There were columns that looked as if they were holding up the cavern, and they seemed to be the only things that weren't crumbling around Nova as she rushed in. The light from behind her shone in, illuminating the relics, the precious secrets of Sinnoh.

Nova wanted to pause and breathe in the drawings etched over the pillars – the branches, the dark shadows, the three floating little figures. But, the second she stepped in, she felt something snatch her up by the collar, lifting her in the air, wings flapping dangerously close to her face.

At that second, Rhys rushed in, Leila on his back, scowling. But he froze as he caught sight of his gladiator, at the Honchkrow that had raised her in the air, at the man who was examining the relics.

And though he was ready to hurl bolts of electricity at the Honchkrow, he felt the Roselia press her rose onto his head. Stopping him.

Because they both knew that, if they hurt the Honchkrow, they would be hurting their gladiator, too.

"Stand down," Nova whispered to them. "It's okay."

Footsteps echoed down the smooth stone beneath them as the man – Cyrus – strolled towards Nova, smiling coolly. His mask was gone, showing the thin creases along his face, the greying strands of blue near his eyes, the cruel twist to his lips.

"I've learnt a bit about you in our time apart," he told her.

Nova frowned, wincing as the Honchkrow tightened its grip around her collar. "What would you possibly need to learn?"

"Oh, just about how your mother was _the _Lady Vernia. The poor dancer who was pushed down the stairs. The poor dancer with a daughter who had to grow up in Twinleaf, where some knights ruined your thirteenth birthday."

He said it so calmly, so smoothly, that Nova would have thought he were talking about the freaking weight of gold. And, hearing her own story from his mouth, she felt her insides shrivel up – felt her blood simmer and hiss with rage.

"Where did you learn this?" she demanded.

He snorted. "I have spies everywhere," he said. "It also helps that you decided to blabber it all out in the Veilstone inns."

Then, as if she wasn't hovering just above him, Cyrus turned back to look at the relics – his fingers tracing over the one in the very centre. There was a triangle carved into the wall, in the centre of a ring made of five drawings of little crowns. And, on each point of the triangle, Nova caught different symbols – a sword, a tree, a ring.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Cyrus arched his brow. "I am talking to you."

"…_not just that. he is also breathing, i believe…" _

"No," Nova shot back, ignoring the shadow that seemed to have no bloody intention of helping her out. "You are trying to summon Dialga and Palkia. You're trying to turn back time and stop yourself from killing your wife and daughter."

The man froze, his lip curled. Then, slowly, he turned to face her, his head tilted to one side. A faint smile on his lips.

"Why, it seems you've been doing some searching of your own, November," he mused. "Clever. It's no wonder my son fancies you. Honchkrow, release her."

The bird dropped her instantly, and though Nova felt cold wind assail her as she moved closer to the stone floor, something soft caught her – something as soft as Luxray fur. She held Rhys there, shaking even though she wanted to fight, closing her eyes even though she wanted to snatch up her sword.

But Leila – the smartest of all her champions – shook her head quietly, subtly pointing a rose towards the relics.

And Nova nodded.

The Roselia was right. If she fought Cyrus now, there was the risk of losing. There was the risk of more Galactic Healers rushing in to slaughter her.

But, at the very least, if she waited until she could get more information from him…

"I came here to ask the elders about the spell," Cyrus was saying, his hands dancing over the carvings. "And they wouldn't let me come into this cavern. They didn't want me learning too much. And so, I had to ask my physicians and their Pelippers to throw some mist around, so I could sneak in and see it for myself."

He traced his hand around the circle along the wall, at the five crowns that connected it together.

"The five dead bodies must be placed in a circle, like this," he noted. "And the will of steel, heart of gold, and mind both young and old must be in the centre. I see."

"You can't do this," Nova cut in. "Turning back time… It won't help anyone."

"Won't it? What if I said that it could help _you_?"

Nova froze at his words, felt Luxray's fur stick up as she shuddered. "What do you mean?"

Cyrus paced towards her, his Honchkrow finding its spot on his arm.

"Everyone who has joined me wants something changed," he explained. "And I've promised them all to make that change. Mars, who used to be a gladiator, had her leg cut off during a battle. I can turn back time and stop that from happening."

He smiled at Nova's wide eyes, as if he could feel the gears turning in her head, the pain rattling within her heart.

"Jupiter, who died and lost her child…" He shook his head, as if he were _trying_ to show sympathy. "I can turn back time and stop her from going into Eterna Forest. Then, there's also Saturn, who had his tongue ripped off by some pirate. I can change that. I can go back and kill that pirate before he meets Saturn."

Nova thought about it carefully, about every single damned word.

It wasn't just for himself.

It was for the people that had joined him, too.

"I can even offer _you _something," he said, standing before her, reaching to touch her gently on the face. "Join me, November, and I will turn back time. I will find the moment your mother was pushed down the stairs, and I can stop it from happening."

Nova almost stopped breathing upon hearing the words.

Because if her mother had been saved… If she had never been pushed in the first place…

"You could have grown up in a better home," Cyrus added. "A better life. And no knights would every have touched you, _November_."

He said the word like it was a curse. Like it was a spell in itself.

"No," Nova managed to mumble. "I don't…"

"Then don't think about yourself. Think about your _mother_."

"What about me mother?"

Cyrus shook his head, that stupidly sick pity in his eyes.

"Have you ever thought about _her _years of suffering?" he asked her. "Her years of sitting down, doing nothing all day, remembering the dancer she was and the life she could have lived had she never gotten pregnant with you?"

The words cut through her heart.

Because, he was right. If her mother had never gotten pregnant, she would never have been pushed down the stairs. She could have kept dancing. She _would _have kept dancing.

Nova closed her eyes and felt for Rhys and Leila, remembering the Spring Dance. Remembering the way her mother had spent so long staring at the spiralling staircases. Remembering the way her mother's eyes had flashed with regret when she had mentioned her father. Remembering the words her mother always whispered into her ears.

_Dance with the winds, Nova. Dance with the winds…_

"What do you say, November?"

Nova opened her eyes and took a long breath. Remembering Barry. Remembering Lucas. Remembering Joy and Bebe and their father.

Then, she opened her mouth and gave him her answer.

What's that, you ask? What did she say?

Well, dear masters and squires, readers and writers, friends and foes, I would tell you.

But, surely, the answer is _obvious_.

* * *

**I mean, duh. You've all played this game, haven't you? **

**Anyways! Our second secret reveal was in this chapter, though it's less of a secret-secret and more of a fun fact. ALSO! Has anyone heard one the songs from the new Mulan soundtrack? By Christina Aguilera? It's called Loyal, Brave and True and I love it so much – it reminds me a bit of this story! I laughed, too, because, in my eyes, one of my trio is loyal, one is brave, and one is true. Have fun working out which is which! It's pretty obvious. **

**Secret 9: Jupiter was the Song Sister who helped Cyrus. **


	36. UPDATE

This is **not **a chapter update. Please do not be concerned as to why the narrator has stopped saying 'aye' all the time. This is just me, the fellow author.

I hope everyone is well in these trying times (assuming you are reading this around the February - April period of 2020). Please make sure you are drinking plenty of healthy fluids, and please make sure you are getting plenty of rest. Look after yourselves.

This chapter was originally here to inform everyone of a brief hiatus I was taking. However, the hiatus is now over, and the chapters will resume! So, please, do me a favour and skip over this chapter - the next chapter awaits!

Wait! One last thing!

Thank you to everyone who has supported me throughout Nova's journey. The reviewers, the people who are sending me sketches of the characters, the beautiful souls who are recommending this to their friends. Thank you so much - words cannot express how much it means to me. Meanwhile, I tried to compile and edit a series of vines just for this story - but alas, my editing is as terrible as Rhys's patience.

So, instead, I'll just quote a vine for you to show you my love. I've taken a bunch of creative liberties:

I may feel like a burnt chicken nugget, but I still love y'all.

Okay, now proceed onwards, noble steeds!


	37. Chapter XXXV

**Chapter XXXV**

**Your girl is back! Thank you so much for everyone's patience. I've recovered all my stories, including all 17 future chapters of this story. And it's all backed up this time. I promise. **

**Now, for a recap since it's been a while!**

**\- The team: Tric the Monferno, Bailey the Staraptor, Rhys the Luxray, Leila the Roselia, and Owl the Gastrodon. **

**\- We've beaten Wake, and while Barry and Lucas deal with Fantina, November and Joy went to Celestic. **

**\- Team Galactic attack at Celestic! Jupiter is a tree girl/Song Sister! And it ended with Cyrus asking November to join him. **

**And what did she do? **

**Well... **

* * *

"You let him get _away_?"

Nova rolled her eyes as the old crone snapped at her. With the Galactic Healers chased out of Celestic, they were in the old woman's home, breathing in the herbal smoke and lavender oil and tea that crackled and popped over a little pot by the fireplace. Quilts had been thrown over ever settee and chair, all worn down and frayed, and the floorboards creaked as Joy moved over to the gladiator and pressed a bandage to her head.

"Look at her," the healer pointed out. "It doesn't look like she _let _him go."

It was true. Blood dribbled down Nova's temple as she cocooned herself in one of the quilts, all five of her champions sleeping and drooling around her.

The old crone sniffed as she stepped behind the gladiator, frowning beneath the hood that veiled her face. "Smells like Bibarel blood to me." Then, turning to the Pokémon by Nova's feet, she hissed, "And what about this lot? Couldn't they do something about Cyrus?"

"I didn't let them," Nova said quietly.

"Why not?"

Nova shrugged. "Cyrus is Lucas's father. I couldn't just do that to him."

The old crone exchanged a glance with Joy, who sighed. "Nova…"

"You really like him, don't you?" the crone cut in suddenly.

Nova didn't even flush. She just nodded.

And though she couldn't have known for sure, she was almost certain that the old crone was smiling behind that hidden face of hers.

"Good," she said. "I wish the two of you happiness."

"Aye, that's all great and jolly, but who even _are _you?" Nova asked. "Can you show me yer face?"

The old crone waved her gloved hand, shaking her head. "One day, perhaps. Now, where is the blasted thing…"

She went through a thin sheet of curtains, moving into another room. Then, with a scowl, Joy turned towards Nova.

"Nova, you can't just ask an elder of Celestic to show her face!"

Nova winced as the healer tightened the bandage around her, leaving a jabbing pain singing through her skull. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"The elders of Celestic _always _keep their faces hidden," Joy explained. "They say their faces carry too many secrets for the rest of Sinnoh to see. It's their way of marking themselves as elders, and you have to show them respect. We should be honoured to even be in the house of an elder."

The gladiator arched her brow. "You certainly know a lot about Celestic."

With another long sigh, Joy finished taping up the bandages and stepped back. "It's been my dream to come here and study amongst the elders. They have the best healers in all of Sinnoh."

"Well, now that we're here, why don't-"

"Aha! Found it!" the old crone called out from the other room. She strolled back towards Nova and Joy, a crumpled scroll in her hand – one that had the exact same runes that Nova had seen with Cyrus sketched upon the yellowing paper. "Looks like you two are right. Cyrus needs five legionaries beneath Spear Pillar, and he needs Mespirit, Azelf, and Uxie's chosen ones to be up at the top. The chant needs to be done in Spear Pillar, and if it works, the two orbs will be created – one for controlling Dialga, and one for controlling Palkia."

Nova rubbed at her unhurt temple, leaning back against the settee. "So, now what? How do we stop him?"

"…_the obvious way. we kill him…" _

"We stop him from killing five legionaries," the old crone answered, though Nova could have _sworn _that her gaze flickered down to the gladiator's shadow. "And we make sure he doesn't find the chosen three."

"…_or that…" _

The old crone paused for a second, tilting her head to smile. "Turning Gardenia into a Song Sister was fine thinking, November. Now Cyrus can't use her for the spell, since she's no longer flesh and bone."

"Speaking of Song Sisters," Nova cut in, "Jupiter… What did you-"

"Killing a tree is easier said than done, lass. Especially when the tree keeps sticking branches in yer eye. Hurts like an absolute buggery."

"…_ah, yes. buggeries. how painful…"_

Once again, there was that small tilt of the crone's head, making Nova wonder if Darkrai was speaking to everyone, just as he had done when Barry was around. But, upon glancing at Joy, who didn't spare the gladiator's shadow a second glance, she realised that that, no, Darkrai wasn't speaking aloud it all. It was just the old crone being an old crone.

"So," Nova said, "I hear you have the best healers, here?"

The crone placed the scroll on the table and settled herself into one of the chairs. "And who told you that?"

"Oh, no one. Just heard the little whispers. Are you accepting students?"

From the corner of her eyes, Nova saw Joy's eyes widen.

"You want to be a healer?" the crone mused.

"No. But Joy does."

"_Nova_," the pink-haired girl hissed.

The old woman shrugged. "I don't see why not. The healers sure could use some help working out how to find a cure for the Psyduck Plague. I'm sure they'd love a fresh set of eyes."

Joy stood there, stunned. "Really?"

"Aye. Of course. I'll tell the healers myself."

Nova couldn't help but grin as the healer turned speechless, with flushed cheeks and wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"Oh, Arceus, _thank you_," the healer finally breathed out. "Thank you… pardon me, what was your name again?"

"Elder Bertha."

"_Elder Bertha_? Oh, Arceus, my lady." Suddenly, Joy was on her knees, her head bowed as she glared daggers at her friend. "Nova, kneel!"

Nova's face scrunched up. "Why?"

"Because I asked you to!"

"And when did I start listenin' to you?"

"Since we-"

The old lady cut them both off with a little snort. "No need for that, lasses."

"But, my lady-"

Before Joy could finish, Nova was throwing her hands up in the air. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on? Why are we kneeling?"

"Because this is Baroness Bertha," Joy explained quietly. "Queen Cynthia's grandmother and patron."

Nova blinked slowly, her gaze running over the crone's hunched shoulders and dark cloak. Then, she grinned.

"You know," she said, "for a wicked old thing like you, you sure have one shitty granddaughter."

Joy's face burned bright red. "Nova!"

But Elder Bertha only snickered. "I mean, Cynthia _did _run away from the castle just to go find some 'lost family' or some garbage. So, I suppose she _is _an odd thing, ain't she?"

"Aye," Nova agreed. "And don't get me started on yer grandson, Volkner."

"Oh, aye, I didn't even sponsor him, thank Arceus."

"Good thing for that, too. Apparently, he likes to stick his dong into his patron's skirts."

"…_first, buggery. now, dong?..."_

The poor healer sitting beside Nova looked absolutely appalled, nudging her friend in the ribs as she hissed, "Nova, this is a _baroness_. You can't speak like that!"

Nova raised her palms in surrender. "Either way, wicked grandmother or not, I still say _fuck Queen Cynthia_."

"_Nova_!"

"Ouch, Joy, don't pinch me, that bloody _hurts-_"

Elder Bertha stood slowly onto her feet, her eyes narrowed onto Nova.

Then, she burst into hysterical laughter.

"_Fuck Queen Cynthia_," she repeated, hooting. "My, you're a funny one. _Fuck Queen Cynthia_. Oh, Arceus, it's no wonder we get along so well, November."

"What about Volkner's dong? That was pretty funny, too, aye?"

"Oh, aye, that was bloody _fantastic_."

Joy's face paled. "Oh, Baroness Bertha, please don't encourage her."

"Oh, stop fussing, will you?" Bertha said. "There's a statue of Palkia just outside Celestic. The healers are probably already there, seeking Palkia's blessings. You'll find them there. They'll know who you are. Now, run along."

In an instant, Joy was out the door – shooting one final, warning glare towards her gladiator friend.

Then, with the door slammed shut, Elder Bertha moved towards Nova and pressed a cold, golden piece of metal in her hand – one that was like a little circle, with a small, shiny amber stone studded on one side.

"This is for you," Bertha said to the gladiator.

Nova stared down at it, her eyes wide. "A ring? I'm honoured that you fancy me, but you're a little old for me, don't ya think?"

"We'd have a bloody glorious honeymoon, don't you reckon?"

"…_please, never let me imagine that again. even nightmares can only go so far…"_

The old crone laughed, and Nova's eyes went wide.

"You do hear him, don't you?" she asked. "Darkrai. You can hear him, too."

Bertha just waved her hand dismissively. "Never mind that. I was thinking that you should give the ring to that knight friend of yours."

"Lucas? Why?"

"Well, you like him, do you not?"

"I do, but…" Nova made a face. "Marriage?"

Bertha punched her gently on the shoulder. "You don't have to get down on yer knee for him. Just give it to him as a gift. And see what he has to say about it. I think _that _will be interesting."

Nova curled her fist around the ring, felt Leila the Roselia shift against her elbow as the shiny stone along it burned amber in her palms.

Then, tucking the ring into the pocket of her britches, Nova smiled.

"You're gonna make me pay you back for this, aren't you?"

"Aye. Of course."

"What do you want from me this time, old lady? My liver? My hair? My unborn child's feet?"

Elder Bertha snorted, pushing herself onto her feet. "Oh, easy. Clean me bloody house."

"What?"

Within seconds, Nova felt a piece of wet cloth and a freaking duster smack into her face.

"Pick up the pace, lass! The dust ain't gonna wipe away itself."

"I bloody hate you."

"And I love you, too," the old crone retorted. Then, chuckling under her breath, she mused, "_Fuck Queen Cynthia_. Oh, that's _precious_."

* * *

After about two weeks of standing on her toes and wiping every bloody bit of dust off Elder Bertha's home, Nova was almost itching to race back to Hearthome. With a farewell to Joy – one that ended with a hug instead of a slap – she and her five Pokémon had practically gone _running _into Mt Coronet, her bandages undone, her wounds healing.

Upon entering, though, she realised it may have been better to wait until night, when the other gladiators were sure to be sleeping.

The screams, the yells, the smell of blood all assaulted Nova as she moved towards the sparring men and women.

Rhys and Bailey were already moving forwards, ready to take on the gladiators that glanced over at her, but Nova held out a hand.

"No," she told them. "I want Tric to fight."

And though Rhys scowled at that, he nodded reluctantly.

"November, was it?" one of the gladiators called out. "Care for a spar?"

In the dark of night, the man and his Abomasnow looked even bigger than they were. And yet, as Nova ran through all the skills Lucas had taught her – aim for the throat, groin, knees – she winced as she realised that Tric had already jumped ahead and tackled the human.

Leaving Nova with the Abomasnow.

"…_he truly does love you…" _

"You're all bloody insufferable."

Nova angled the sword, hoping it would slip between its ribs when she stabbed – not too hard, since its gladiator actually seemed _nice_.

The Abomasnow almost smiled at her blade, as if it was the funniest thing in the world, its gaze focused on the sharp edge – much more focused that Nova, who kept sneaking a glance towards Tric. The Monferno was having a _ball_, freely shoving and jostling his human opponent, climbing onto his head and banging his helm with his little fists.

A beam of ice sliced towards Nova, and she moved just in time to feel it graze her arm and leave frost tracing up her shoulder. It was so cold – so bloody _cold _– that she staggered back, hissing.

Without warning, Tric leapt from the man and onto the Abomansnow, throwing a punch into its face, followed by two hits so fast that his fists were almost a blur.

Then, with the Abomansow flailing his arms, shards of ice falling from his hands as he tried to smack Tric away, the Monferno jumped to the ground, ducked, crouched with bent knees, and waited.

As the Abomasnow tried to spread the frost over the ground, where the Monferno lay, Nova hooted and waved her hands. Urging the Abomasnow to come for her, instead.

And, when it took a step forwards, the big thing slipped over its own ice and went tumbling to the ground.

It was about then that Nova's human opponent had fixed up the helm on his head, frowning.

"Abomasnow!" he cried out.

He dived for Nova, hands out with his own sword, no doubt expecting her to strike back with her blade.

But Nova only snickered.

Why bother attacking his strength when she could go straight for the weakness?

Nova leapt up at the last second and shoved her boot into his crotch with all the force of her springing legs. Even Tric winced as the poor lad rolled on the stone and clutched at his groin.

"…_i'm not sure whether i should make fun of him or actually consider respecting you…"_

"Oh, come on, that's an easy one, ain't it?"

She offered a hand to the lad who she had kicked, and though he handed her some gold, he did not seem too fond of speaking to her for very long. Seeing the way he limped away, leaning against his Abomasnow, Nova wasn't too surprised.

Tric didn't stop there, though. He kept fighting, tossing Chinglings around, pummelling his fists into Gravelers and Machokes, blowing embers at them whenever they stepped too close. He didn't fight like Rhys, with unrestrained thirst for blood, but he fought like _Tric _– having fun as he did it, blowing kisses with every punch, grinning as he sent gladiators tumbling to the floor by simply tripping them over.

After a while, Nova found herself panting and drinking from her flask, leaning against her Luxray and cradling her Roselia in her hands as she watched. Even Bailey had found his spot on her head, and Owl the Gastrodon pressed her head onto Nova's leg as they watched the Monferno fight.

"That's the Chimchar I stole from Duke Rowan," Nova told them all softly. "And look at him now."

"…_and look at you now…" _

"What about me?"

Her shadow snorted. _"…you haven't changed?..."_

"How have I changed?"

"…_well, for one, you've started talking to your own shadow…" _

Leila chuckled at that, chirping as Darkrai's shadow reached up and slid over her face. Over the past two weeks, Darkrai had taken turns jumping from shadow to shadow, and each one of them _loved _it – the fearlessness, the hours where they could truly lunge and strike without a second of hesitation.

And yet, Nova _still _didn't know why he had chosen to linger with her shadow since Solaceon. Every time she asked, the answer was always the same: he liked to keep things interesting.

"Fat load of help you were with Cyrus," Nova finally said.

"…_you wanted me to help?..." _

"Of course I wanted you to help!"

"…_then why didn't you ask?..." _

Nova pinched the bridge of her nose, turning back to Tric. She watched him for a few minutes longer – every punch, every kick, every cheeky grin as he tied a few gladiators' boot laces together.

"I stole Tric from Duke Rowan, who is Lady Fantina's grandfather, aye?"

"…_aye…" _

"The same person who didn't let me enter the Spring Dance."

Darkrai gave a long, slow sigh. _"…typical human. still caught up on a simple invitation…" _

But Nova was no longer listening.

With her lip curling into a grin as Tric blew some flames into a poor Drifloon, sending it floating higher and higher into the air, Nova had a made her decision.

* * *

Fantina's ballroom looked so different when there was no one dancing and twirling, with no music escaping from every open window and door. The chandelier still shimmered in the lamplight, there were still magenta ribbons sliding down the staircases, and every damned thing – from the settees to the vases – was tinctured with gold, but it felt bare. Empty. Dead.

The legionary herself was sprawled over her velvet settee, her brows arched as Nova strolled into the room, her five champions marching behind her.

"What do you want?" Fantina asked lazily, her voice a low drawl.

Nova glanced around, her gaze stopping on the stairs that curled down the ballroom. The stairs that had changed her fate completely.

"Where's Barry?"

"The blind friend of yours?" Fantina gave her a smug grin. "He won my legionary crystal by telling me a few _delicious _secrets about you."

"…_snitch…"_

Nova tilted her head to one side. "What secrets?"

"Oh, just about how Sir Riley tried to kiss you, and how you stole a Chimchar from my father, _and _how you broke into Lost Tower…" Fantina propped up onto her elbow, a sharpness in her eyes. "You're in a load of trouble."

"Wait, so he didn't kick your arse?"

"No. He told me that you were going to do that."

Nova couldn't help but smile at that.

Oh, he knew her so well.

"Well?" Fantina asked. "Are you going to tell me why you're here, wench? I still want your head on a pike, you know."

"You already know why I'm here. Or were you not listening to yer own words?"

Fantina sat up. "Hm?"

"I'm here to kick your arse, Fantina. For banning me from the Spring Dance."

"…_typical human. still caught up on a simple invitation…" _

* * *

**There we go! Now we are back on track! **

**Once again, I apologise for the wait, and I hope everyone is well in these particularly trying times. Please make sure you drink water, get plenty of rest, and eat well. Take some time to do something you have always wanted to try! I uploaded a Britney Spears cover called "Hit Me Baby One More Time but my loneliness is actually killing me", so you can tell that I've missed you guys. A lot. **

**Next chapter, it's Fantina time! Woohoo! **


	38. Chapter XXXVI

**Chapter XXXVI**

Fantina _insisted _that they host their legionary battle in her own ballroom. She even wore her glittering, purple gown, a stiletto bone glinting wickedly in her palms, her Gengar hovering behind her.

With only Tric the Monferno by her side, Nova found herself silent as she trailed up the spiralling staircase and stood on the upper level of the room. Once she had seen Fantina in nothing but a gown, she had torn off her armour – finding herself in britches and a silk shirt, instead. All her other Pokémon were supposedly waiting in the gardens, though she didn't doubt for a second that they were trying to peer through the glass windows, spying on the battle for themselves.

"What's that ring for?" Fantina was asking, her brow arched as she spotted the shiny ring along the gladiator's hand.

Nova shrugged. "It's not for me. I'll be giving it to a knight."

"Sir Riley?"

"No. Sir Lucas."

Fantina snorted. "I have never even heard of him. Is he nice looking?"

"Certainly better looking than you, Fantina."

"Oh, you're a bloody-"

"Besides, you've already seen him, no? He's Barry's patron."

For a long second, Fantina froze. Stared at Nova, her eyes narrowed, her lips curled into a frown.

Then, her face lit up. Amused. Mystified.

"Oh, _Lucas_," she drawled. "Now, _that's _cute."

Nova scowled.

She didn't like the way the legionary said it. She didn't like the horribly fake smile, the cruel interest that glimmered in her eyes. Because Nova _remembered _– she remembered the way Fantina had tried to stab her at the Spring Dance, remembered the way her face had paled at the mere sight of her.

There was not a single doubt in her heart that the legionary still wanted her dead.

Fantina strolled to the other staircase, so that she and Nova were standing on opposing ends of the top floor.

"So, do you have any secrets for me, November?" she asked. "Anything that will automatically earn you a crystal?"

"Nay. That's a coward's way out."

With a roll of her eyes, Fantina leaned back against the wall, grinning at her Gengar.

"You know, November, I want to play a _special _game with you," she said slowly. "Rather than a boring old fight, let's play something a bit more interesting. What was it called again?"

The woman's gaze darted down the stairs, a lazy grin stretching across her face.

"Oh, that's right. The game was called: Don't Fall Down the Motherfucking Stairs."

"…_well, that makes it personal…"_

Nova felt the jab in her chest, felt it feed the simmering rage within her.

_Oh, that bitch- _

She took one glance down the railing, her breath catching in her throat even as Darkrai ate away her fear. The stairs _did _go on in what felt like a never-ending stretch, and if she _did _fall down the stairs – or worse, tumbled off the _railing_-

"…_how typical of fantina. setting her legionary battle where anyone could easily break their necks…" _

"And we begin," Fantina declared.

They stood there, waiting. The Monferno and the Gengar staring each other down.

"What did I do to you, Fantina?" Nova asked quietly. "Why do you hate me so much? Is it because your father sponsored me?"

Fantina snorted. "You don't know, yet? You don't know about how you stole my chance of becoming a princess?"

"I- _what_?"

"And you're going to _pay_."

And before Nova could say another word, the Gengar split. It faded and spun in the air, and suddenly, the gladiator realised that she wasn't only staring at one Gengar – she was staring at dozens of them. One of them real. The rest of them mere doubles.

Then, they lunged.

* * *

Most of the Gengars darted for Tric while Nova ducked and darted for Fantina. The Monferno, in all truths, had no idea what to do – he just slowly backed away from the many Gengars, embers burning at the back of his throat.

He could spit flames at them until he worked out which Gengar was real, but that posed too much of a risk. If the entire upper floor caught on fire, he and Nova would _have _to run down the stairs, and that would be an instant loss for them.

And yet, what more was there to do?

Tric winced as three Gengars moved towards him, their grins sharp, their eyes hissing venom.

Then, the Monferno glanced down beneath the railing – at the lower floor. He jumped back slightly, covering his mouth with his hand as if he were trying to smother a cry.

The three Gengars froze. Glanced down at the railing, at whatever the Monferno had nearly screamed at. Curiosity fighting logic.

But when the Monferno hissed something to them, waving his hands to get them to back away from the railing and away from whatever he had seen, curiosity won over. Tric could see it in their eyes – the lazy interest that he had seen in Fantina's own eyes. The three Gengar snorted at his pathetic attempts to veil whoever or whatever was beneath the railing, and they moved towards the edge, glancing down to see what Tric had seen.

In the next instant, Tric had crouched behind them, thrown his arms around one of them, jerked his legs back and upwards and tipped one over the edge. Then, before the other two could cry out, he punched them over the edge – his fist a flame – and watched as they burst into dust on their way down.

All three of them had been fake.

But at least it was three less to deal with.

So, with a grin, Tric the Monferno turned to the other Gengar that were rushing towards him.

* * *

Nova wasn't surprised when the Gengar left her alone. She suspected that Fantina wanted to do the kill herself.

They made their way to the centre of the upper floor, swords drawn, gazes locked, their cold rage hardening their faces.

"You can't be here," Fantina hissed. "You're going to regret leaving Twin-"

Before she could finish, Nova swept out a leg, sending Fantina tripping back on her own dress. The gladiator didn't even hesitate; she just flipped the sword in her hand and lunged.

Fantina deflected the blow with her own sword, but Nova got past her guard and pinned her, slamming the legionary's head against the cold tiles. The older woman twisted with every ounce of her strength, and the two girls went flipping across the floor, their hair and clothes and venomous anger tangled between them.

And, as they rolled towards the stairs, Nova felt no fear.

Not even as the sight of the blood on the railing – the dried blood that must have been _years _old – caught her eyes.

Because, as Fantina panted and pushed the gladiator away from her, Nova _saw_.

* * *

_It was her mother. Lady Vernia. Lying on the bottom of the ballroom stairs. Coppery blood pooling in her mouth, soaking her tongue and painting her teeth red. _

_She was trying to sit up, but her legs weren't moving. And, though Nova couldn't feel it herself, she could see the pain in her mother's face – in her bright red cheeks, her burning tears, her shaking hands. She was clutching onto her belly, screaming for help as she tried to curl up, as her legs wouldn't even do that, when she heard the clicking of heels against tiles. _

_Nova then saw Fantina. _

_The legionary approached her mother, frowning. _

"_What happened to you, Vernia?" _

_Vernia tried to choke out a few words, but all that came out was a muffled sob. _

_Fantina took a long glance at her bleeding face. At her unmoving legs. At the hands that were clutching onto her stomach. _

"_Oh, he pushed you down the stairs, did he?"_

_Another sob. Another strangled howl of despair. _

"_Well, that's a shame. I'd call for help, dear Vernia, but I'm tired, you see." _

_Vernia's eyes went wide. "Fant-t-tina…" _

"_I'll always remember you, Vernia." _

* * *

Nova didn't know how much time had passed. All she knew was that, as she opened her eyes and felt Fantina shove her away, everything had changed.

This place.

_This _was where it had all happened.

And Fantina-

Nova staggered to her feet, watching as Fantina spat and retrieved her sword, before turning to Tric.

"Tric," she hissed. "We're going to get _real creative _on this place. You hear me?"

* * *

The Monferno, indeed, had heard her. And though he couldn't understand _why _his gladiator had raw pain in her eyes, nor could he quite grasp onto why she was shaking and fighting back tears, he nodded and turned back to the Gengar.

The ghost-type was lunging towards him, but he twisted aside, and spat a quick ember into its gaping mouth. It reared back, choking for breath, and with a little puff of smoke, it disappeared.

Another fake.

The next Gengar that rushed for him was stunned, suddenly, as Monferno reached forwards and puckered his lips. As if he were expecting a little kiss.

Its hesitance was enough for Tric; instantly, the Monferno lunged for its ear, snatched the Gengar up into the air, and bit into its ear before spinning it around and throwing it over the railing.

With a _poof_, the Gengar vanished.

* * *

Fantina's sword came rushing down onto Nova, and though the gladiator slapped it out of the legionary's hand with her own blade, she hissed as the woman's fist came battering into her stomach.

Her own sword went flying out of her grasp as Nova stumbled back. Without sparing it a second glance, the gladiator flung herself at the legionary, her fist clenched, her mouth a thin line as she hissed, "You are a _bitch_, Fantina. An absolute _bitch_."

With a shrill laugh, Fantina dodged the punch, lifting her skirt and throwing a kick at the gladiator – a kick with pointy heels. Nova was sent staggering back, tripping over her own blade, her face stinging as her cheek hit the floor.

"You're the one who took everything away from me, _November_. Queen Cynthia let one of my mistakes slide, but _you _were one mistake she wouldn't let me get away with. _You _took away my crown."

Nova's stomach heaved as Fantina stood over her, the woman's shadow falling into her face.

"You let my mother suffer," she spat. "And I will _hurt _you for that."

"Was that a threat, Nova?"

"I don't make threats. I make fucking _promises_."

* * *

There was only one Gengar left, and it circled around Tric. But the Monferno was too busy listening, too busy staring at the legionary and the gladiator through the corner of his eye.

And when he heard Nova say something about Lady Vernia _suffering_, he understood.

A flame of hot-white anger ran through his body, and he saw the Gengar's smile fade as it sensed the change in him. He saw its mouth tense, saw the wary look that crept into his eyes.

And so, Tric decided to play a little game of _catch me if you can. _

The Gengar took a stumbling step forwards. Tric whirled around and slashed him with a swipe of fire before leaping away as it snatched at him, leaving the ghost-type clutching at empty air. Tric jumped and attacked again and again with his punches, always bounding away just in time.

Suddenly, the Gengar dodged one of Tric's attacks, grinning as the Monferno lost his momentum. He kept hurling at it, but it kept leaping backwards just in time, never questioning _why _the Monferno kept using the same move, never wondering _why _the fire-type had begun to slow down-

The Gengar stepped back, and his heel hit solid metal.

It glanced behind it and, in shock, saw a railing, and on the other end of it, the fall that awaited it. Only then did it realise how it had been tricked; little by little, Tric had pushed it to the edge of the upper floor. And now he was closing in on the ghost-type.

And, before the Gengar could slash back, the Monferno opened his mouth and released a flamethrower – knocking the ghost-type straight off the floor.

Tric jumped right after him, but never landed.

Instead, he found himself swinging on the chandelier. Waiting. Watching.

* * *

Fantina lunged forwards with her fists, as swift and deadly as a snake even with her gown and heels. Nova darted back, dodging each swipe and punch, moving back and back, before reaching out and jabbing with her own hands.

The legionary sidestepped her easily, only to slash at Nova with her freaking _nails_. And though Nova had spun aside, the nails still grazed her skin, leaving a small cut by her neck.

Nova ducked past the legionary, racing to snatch up the nearest sword she could find. Through the corner of her eyes, she saw Fantina do the same and, to her dismay, realised that they had _swapped _swords.

With her hands tight around Nova's clear sword, Fantina feinted left and slashed right, while Nova hastily ducked and rolled aside. She tried to drive her sword into the legionary's spine, but Fantina lashed out with her own blade, the ring of gravebone and diamond forcing the air to shudder.

And, to Nova's horror, the gravebone snapped into two pieces in her hand.

"Arceus above," she swore, pulling back the shortened sword.

Despite it being broken, Nova went to go low with the shortened blade, but Fantina was already there, a shout ringing from her lips as she drove her knee up into Nova's belly.

The air was knocked out of the gladiator in a whoosh, but she kept her grip on the sword, even as Fantina kicked her down onto the tiles. The marble rocked against the blow, and Nova held her head, agony arcing through her as she ducked just in time when Fantina slashed directly for her face.

Again, Nova remembered her mother's eyes. The pain in them. The way her hands had shook as she clutched onto her belly.

_Move_.

She had to keep moving, smooth as a stream, smooth as the wind. She rose to her feet, moving for Fantina, evading every hit, ducking and rolling and dodging.

For her mother.

For the November that _could _have been.

Fantina was panting as Nova swept aside every blow, as she used her own shortened blade to toss aside the diamond sword.

"We end this _now_," Nova snapped.

And, with her shadow eating away every ounce of her fear, Nova grabbed Fantina's hand and threw them _both _off the ledge.

A hand caught Nova's – a hand that could only belong to Tric the Monferno, who was swinging from the chandelier. They all hung there – Tric holding the chandelier, Nova holding Tric, and Fantina holding Nova – the large drop beneath them, only one of them feeling actual, true fear.

"Now, _watch_," Nova said simply.

And Tric's body began to glow as he set the ballroom on fire.

The flames itself had a roar to it – a roar that was so much more than the crackling and popping and hissing of the biting heat. The squealing of the glass, the screaming from the outside of the ballroom, the hoarse howl of the legionary; that was the true roar of the fire.

And even as smoke snaked around their faces, Tric kept blowing flames into the ballroom. There was a deadly rainfall of glass and steel, and the fire took bites out of Nova and Fantina's skin as it fell around them, as the chandelier squealed in protest at their weight-

When the chandelier fell, it had been the Gengar that had saved them all. With a sweep of dark wind, they were all swept to one aside, watching as the chandelier fell into the flames – making the fire claw at the shattered crystals.

Through it all, Nova stood. She crawled through the fire, realising that a Monferno didn't follow her – but an _Infernape _did – and slapped away the flames as she found Fantina.

Embers clung to the legionary's skin and smoke oozed out of her Gengar's mouth. Fantina spluttered and choked, her body wrenching as she tried to cough, as she tried to breathe.

Nova could hear knights already slamming into the door, ready to burst in and check to see if the legionary was okay. So, as quickly as she could, the gladiator crouched down and dragged Fantina and the Gengar to the corner of the ballroom – away from the flames, just near the bottom of the staircase.

"You lose," Fantina hissed as she coughed. "You also fell to the bottom floor. You do not get my crystal."

The gladiator bit back her snarl.

"Then I'll tell you a secret," she said.

Despite the blood on her lips and the burns along her face, Fantina forced a thin smile. "Go on."

"Queen Cynthia is missing – she left to go find lost family. She could be dead, and no one knows it."

"_Boring_. That's old news, lass. I want a secret I would _die _for."

Nova was nearly tempted to hurl the legionary into the fire. Even Tric scowled, the Infernape's eyes wide as he heard the knights call out louder from behind the door.

"Volkner," Nova said quickly. "He was a gladiator, and he was kicked out of the games for sleeping with his patron."

Fantina paused for a second, but shook her head. "I don't give a shit about Volkner."

"What about Maylene? She was the one who walked in and saw him with his-"

Nova froze suddenly.

Because she realised, then, that she never had learnt who Volkner's patron had been.

And, as she thought and thought and thought, she realised that, really, it had been obvious all along.

Maylene had made it so freaking _clear_. She had teased Volkner – something about him going to Spring Dances, something about how a certain legionary had always been interested in younger men.

And what had Legionary Wake said?

_Aye, but Volkner's patron was th' moterstinkin' daughter of-_

Of Duke Rowan? Had _that _been it?

"And _you _were the patron Volkner slept with," Nova suddenly said. "But you and Volkner didn't get killed because you were too important. He was the brother of the new queen, and you were the daughter of the old king. And so… the legionaries had to swear an oath. Not to tell. To keep yer arses alive. And Maylene must have been offered a position as legionary so that she would keep her mouth shut."

Fantina couldn't even deny it. Her face had paled, and the hot fire was reaching closer for them – already catching at her dress, flames oozing near her feet, crawling closer and closer towards her face.

And, finally, she dug her hand into her heel and ripped out a legionary crystal for the gladiator to take.

"Take it, wench," the legionary spat. "But, before you go, you should know something. A secret of my own."

Nova cocked her head to the side. "What?"

"Your precious Sir Lucas? He doesn't fucking _exist_."

"What the hell is _that _supposed to-"

But she never got to answer. For, in that second, the knights had finally managed to burst open the door, and water-types were spreading across the area, spitting at the flames.

So, Nova and her Infernape raced up the spiralling staircases, retrieved her sword, and darted towards the back – towards the gardens.

The gladiator had only turned back to gaze at the burning ballroom for a second. Wondering about what Fantina had meant about Sir Lucas. Wondering why the legionary was still insistent that Nova had snatched away her title as princess.

Staring at the crackling flames. Darkrai and Infernape sighing with her as the ballroom melted before them.

Wondering what she had become.

* * *

It took almost _hours _to clear away the fire that the blasted Infernape had started. Fantina still didn't know what had possessed the girl, didn't know what to tell the knights as they called healers to treat the burns and cuts along her face.

Her gaze found a young knight – one with a particularly sweet face – and pulled him towards her.

"Do me a favour, sweets," she purred into his ear. "Do you have a flying-type?"

The young boy nodded. Blinked back his surprise. Flushed as Fantina dragged her fingers down his cheek.

"I need you to go to Canalave and tell all the knights there to look out for a girl named November," she told him. "Black hair. Blue eyes. Walks around with an Infernape and a bunch of others. And I want you to arrest her."

"For what, Lady Fantina?"

Fantina grinned.

This was why secrets were oh, so useful.

"She was caught flirting with Sir Riley at the Spring Dance, though he's married to the queen," she pointed out. "She stole a Chimchar from my father, Duke Rowan. She broke into Lost Tower and buried a body beside the old kings and queens of Sinnoh. _And _she set my ballroom on fire."

Sure enough, the lad's eyes went wide. Then, with a final smooch of his cheek, Fantina leaned in very close to his ear.

"And whatever you do, do _not _let Lord Byron near her," she whispered. "Because once he realises that his bastard babe of a daughter is alive, we will lose _everything_. You hear?"

"Aye, Legionary Fantina."

"Good. Now go and stop that bitch."

* * *

**With Fantina being my collector of secrets, it makes sense that we have **_**two **_**more secret reveals in this chapter: **

**Secret 3: Volkner's patron was Fantina, and they may or may not have had a brief fling. Hinted from the very start, but exposed when Nova needed it most. It's already scandalous enough sleeping with your patron – but imagine this: the patron happens to be a princess (since Duke Rowan would have been king), **_**and **_**even though she's a princess, she still was rebellious enough to sponsor a gladiator in the first place. Rebellion seems to run in the family. **

**And speaking of family, our other secret reveal: **

**Secret 6: That's right. Lord Byron is Nova's father. Lady Fantina is, therefore, Nova's aunt. Roark is Nova's half-brother. **

**And her patron? Duke Rowan? **

**Well, that's November's grandfather. **

**That's four secrets down, and seven more to go. And good news: next chapter has my favourite secret of all time. **


	39. Chapter XXXVII

**Chapter XXXVII**

Nova fidgeted with the ring along her finger as she leaned across the deck of Wake's pirate ship, where the huge waves rolled against the shore of Pastoria while the wind tore white, sunlit spray from their peaks.

After setting fire to Fantina's ballroom, she and her champions had gone running to Lord Backlot, who had paled at her charred hands before ordering his servants to prepare a room for her. She had even hidden behind the barrels of Bibarel blood when knights had barged in to inspect the mansion, hunting for a girl with dark hair and an Infernape.

Lady Spiral and Lord Backlot had both lied to knights for her. Even Wake, once the knights had disappeared, had offered her a ride on his ship – pointing out that flying on her Staraptor would draw too much attention.

Even now, surrounded by the tonnes of ancient dark wood that belonged to Wake's ship, she couldn't quite focus on the peeling paint, the clanking of the cutlery, the hooting of the pirates who were playing cards behind her. She couldn't even bring herself to think about the five Pokémon she had brought with her, who were learning how to _dance, _courtesy to Leila the Roselia,on the other end of the ship.

All she could think about was Lady Fantina's final words about Lucas. About him not existing.

What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?

"'Tis lucky that Byron be in Canalave," Wake was saying, strolling along the deck and gently placing an arm on her shoulder. "Lord Byron be a good scallywag, _and _he trains th' knights. He was th' one who raised Sir Riley, since th' poor lad's real father had run off somewhere. Once I natter t' Lord Byron, I be sure he can talk the knights out o' arrestin' you."

Nova smiled. "Thanks for all this, Wake. Ya know, sailing me all the way to Canalave."

"And thank _you _fer th' show. By Arceus, settin' Fantina's entire ballroom on fire… What possessed ye to do that?"

"She didn't invite me to the Spring Dance. What more reason do I need?"

"…_and here i was, thinking it was because that was where your mother's life changed. i was sorely mistaken, clearly…" _

Wake took one glance at the shadow beneath Nova's feet and shrugged. "Just remind me t' invite ye to all tea parties I 'ave."

"You have tea parties?"

"We be pirates. Of course we 'ave tea parties."

Nova shook her head, grinning. "It's a shame Spiral and Lord Backlot couldn't come."

"Nay, it ain't," Wake shot back. "I don't want them vomitin' all o'er me ship."

"Vomiting?"

"One gets seasick, and one be pregnant."

"Oh, I-"

"And Lady Spiral be the one who gets seasick."

Nova laughed at that one, the salty breeze running over her chapped lips and tangled hair as she steadied herself over the railing.

"…_that explains the moodiness…" _

"So, what be yer plans from here, lass?" Wake asked. "Are ye gonna get the rest of them crystals?"

Nova shrugged. "I dunno. I'm going to Canalave to give something to Lucas, and I wanna watch Barry win his next legionary, but from there… I might head home. I've caused enough trouble, haven't I?"

With a little chuckle, Wake reached out and gently slapped Nova on the back. "You're a walkin' nightmare, that's fer sure."

"It helps when this grumpy old snot," Nova started, gesturing down at her inky shadow, "won't leave me alone."

"…_me? grumpy? never…" _

Wake nodded grimly at the shadow. "Aye. Now, I got me some gamblin' debts to sort. Care t' join me?"

"I'll pass, Wake."

With one last ruffle of the gladiator's hair, the legionary was off – already throwing his coin onto the table and tearing cards out of some other pirate's hands.

Nova turned back to the sea that was lit orange from the rising sun and sighed.

"You must know what she had meant, Darkrai."

"…_what who had meant?..." _

"Fantina. About Lucas not existing."

"…_i suppose i may know…" _

Nova arched her brow. "Aye, so-"

"…_but i also suppose i may not know…" _

The gladiator rubbed her temples.

It seemed that her shadow was in one of _those _moods.

"You hate Lucas, don't you?"

"…_i most certainly do not hate him…" _

"Really?"

"…_why do you care about whether i like him or not?..." _

Nova closed her eyes and breathed in the salt, the sweat, the steel. "I dunno why. You're an arsehole to everyone, you don't help me even when you know you can, you always try to make me look like an utter fool-"

"…_listing all my attractive qualities, are we?..." _

"But, you see, I _do _care. Because you _do _listen to me, even when you act like you don't. And you _do _care about me – I know you do. Deep down, you're a big ol' sop."

"…_and now, the unattractive qualities…" _

Nova rolled her eyes. "And so, I can't help it. I just do care about what you think. I trust you, Darkrai, and I don't know why. I just do. So, I want you to tell me what you think."

She knew she had hit his soft spot. She could see it in the way her shadow faltered for a second, silent and thoughtful, curling closer into her feet.

And, finally, the Darkrai yielded.

"…_nova, i like the lad. he has a good heart, and he likes you a lot…" _

"Aye?"

"…_but you should give him the ring and see what he says, nova. the crone in celestic – the one who gave you the ring – is smarter than you think…" _

"Aye."

"…_and just remember: i do not hate lucas. i cannot hate him…"_

Nova smiled warmly at her shadow. "Thanks, Darkrai."

She moved away from the deck, then, her smile brighter than ever. And though her shadow followed her, it wasn't quite as dark as before – wasn't dark enough for two.

Because the Darkrai had stayed behind, forming his full figure near the railing, sighing.

"…_i cannot hate him because he doesn't exist…" _

* * *

Nova spent the rest of the ride laughing as Leila the Roselia tried teaching the rest of her Pokémon how to dance. Bailey was the best at it, spinning around Owl smoothly, twirling and twisting his wings like he was being dipped by the Gastrodon. Meanwhile, the poor water-type could barely understand what was going on – constantly crying out whenever Bailey moved too close, its own slug-like movements too slow to keep up with the Staraptor.

Tric was still being Tric, innocently twirling the Roselia around before _accidentally _setting her petal on fire. Nova couldn't help but smile as he eventually blew out the fire; it seemed that Tric wasn't quite done with his fun with flames.

Only Rhys the Luxray stood to the side, rolling his eyes as he licked his claws clean.

"Hey, you," Nova said to him, crouching before him. "You aren't dancing?"

Rhys snorted, disgust written over his face.

"Just because you're a gladiator's champion and you think you're supposed to kill everything you see, doesn't mean you can't have some fun, ya know."

This time, the Luxray only frowned.

"Come on, Rhys. Let's dance."

And though his fur rose as Nova dragged him around the ship, occasionally stepping on his feet and laughing at his flushed cheeks, he let her yank on his tail and spin him into a twirl. She was testing him. Baiting him. Waiting for him to snap with every _accidental _step on his paw.

Finally, when he _did _snap and lunge at her, she didn't flinch – even though the Darkrai had left her shadow for a moment. She only fell onto the wooden planks, let the Luxray stand over her, and grinned with that toothy smile of hers. Trusting him. Knowing he would not hurt her.

And, despite himself, Rhys stepped aside and let his gladiator stand. Then, he held out his paw – as if he were offering her a dance.

This time, he _did _dance. He moved his paws in time to her feet, with the gladiator reminding him that it was just like fighting – he had to know her next move before she even knew it. They twirled around the ship while Leila cheered them on, while Tric hissed with jealousy, while the pirates whistled him on.

Rhys wanted to feel embarrassed. He wanted to turn on his paw and walk away with whatever shred of dignity he had left.

But he couldn't – not with his gladiator grinning at him with that toothy little smile of hers.

Instead, the big bastard of a Luxray winked smugly at Tric as Nova spun him around once again.

Because, in spite of the humiliation and the strangeness of it all, he was starting to smile.

* * *

Nova had been lying in a hammock when they kicked the door of her cabin open.

It hadn't been the ringing of heavy footfalls that had woken her up, but it had been the feeling of the Darkrai slipping back into her shadow that made her roll off the hammock as hackles rose down her back. In a heartbeat, she was reaching for her sword, her Pokémon surrounding her as the door smashed inwards on its hinges.

Knights – four of them. Holding their blades out. They were fully armoured, and Nova was just in her thin clothes; even with her five champions around her, she knew she was in shits.

"November, you're under arrest," one of them hissed.

Nova frowned. "For bloody what?"

"Stealing from Duke Rowan-"

"He _gave _the Chimchar to me!"

"-flirting with the future king, too-"

"_Sir Riley_ asked _me _to dance! The closest thing I did to flirtin' was naming his Lucario Captain Snuggles."

The knight rolled his eyes at that one. "_And _for setting Lady Fantina's ballroom on fire."

"Okay, aye, that one I'll admit."

The knights fanned out into the room, each with hands on their weapons belt. She could already hear Wake outside, hissing at the knights, telling them to stop acting like cretins and get off their ship.

Nova's head raced as she listened.

She knew that her Pokémon could kill these men, even if they had Pokémon of their own. Rhys was a murderous bastard, Leila knew how to work her vines, and Tric could set the entire bloody ship on fire.

But she couldn't do that to Wake. She couldn't destroy his ship.

So, the gladiator raised her hands in surrender. When Rhys growled at the sight of it, Nova glanced sharply back at him.

"Leave it," she told him. "Let's just go with the knights and wait for Wake to sort it all out with Lord Byron. If Barry hears about us destroyin' this ship, he might do something stupid and get himself under arrest, too."

* * *

"You're _already _under arrest?"

For there Nova was, locked up in the dungeons, the lamplights flickering through the iron-barred walls that held her. The cell itself was just a hollow cube of concrete – no windows, no fresh air, no sound but the dripping water, and no furniture or cloth of any kind. They had even forced her Pokémon into a separate cell, far from her, to make sure she didn't ask them to light any more places on fire.

And yet, even though she was supposed to be isolated, Nova found herself face to face with her best friend.

"Aye," Barry said, sighing, huddled into a ball at the corner of the cell. "Something about stealin' a Piplup from Duke Rowan."

"Duke Rowan _gave _you that Piplup!"

"That's what I told them!"

There was a sharp rap against the iron bars.

"Will you two keep it down?" one of the knights snapped. "You'll both be out of there soon. Sir Riley is getting it all sorted out."

"Sir Riley?" the two gladiators echoed back at once.

"Aye. He woke up to all the screaming, and he's making us drop the arrests. He should be coming to retrieve you soon."

With a last, curt nod of his head, the knight was gone, his metal boots clanking as he strolled out of the dungeons.

"Thank Arceus," Nova breathed out. "You hear that, Barry? You're about to meet Sir Riley."

"Quick: do me lips look a bit dry? Do you think he'll want to smooch me, too?"

"Barry, I think-"

"Shh!"

As he silenced her, he cocked his head to the side, listening for the footsteps. Sure enough, they came – gentle but robotic, quick and long.

"Oh," Barry suddenly said, sagging back against the wall. "It's only Lucas."

Nova stared down at him, brows arched. "Lucas?"

"Aye. The footsteps – it's Lucas's. I can tell. It sounds like he's walking with a sword shoved up his arse, ya know?"

"I know."

But, in all truth, Nova found herself fiddling with the ring. Wondering.

The knight had said that Sir Riley was coming to retrieve them, hadn't he?

"Oh well," Barry said, sighing. "Maybe Lucas could introduce us to Sir Riley one day. Maybe he can sneak us invitations to the wedding with Queen Cynthia or something."

Nova was no longer listening, though. Not as she watched Lucas step closer to them, only in his shirt and britches, his blue eyes piercing through the dark.

Sir Riley had blue eyes, too, had he not? Those same blue eyes. Calm as a sky before a storm, but as wild as the sea during one; bright as sapphires, but soft as the paint he had used at the Spring Dance.

When she had first seen Riley, those eyes had been so familiar. But she had brushed it off after Barry had reminded her that the Knight on High had saved them five years ago. Surely, that had been where she had seen those blue eyes before – on her thirteenth birthday, when she had called him Saviour of the Sands.

But now…

Nova felt her skin prickle. Felt her blood heat. Felt her heart fire rapidly within her.

And she _saw. _

She saw herself, only months ago, knights on her heel as she ran with the Chimchar on her head. She saw herself racing towards a chariot – the chariot Lucas had been driving – and reaching out for his hands. She saw herself being caught, if only for a second, in those startingly blue eyes.

Then, afterwards…

_The chariot driver clucked his tongue at the Rapidash, and the flames along their back dwindled into mere embers as they slowed into a gallop. _

"_The name's Lucas," he told her. "I wouldn't mind if you called me The Saviour of the Sands, though." _

_Nova reached out and shook his gloved hand. "November." _

And, as Nova was torn away from the vision and back into the present, it all made sense.

The reason Sir Riley had flirted with her, even though she thought he hadn't known her. The reason he had known who her mother had been, even though she had only told Lucas.

Then there was Lucas, who had always worn his helm when others were around. There was Joy and Darkrai's utter loathing towards him.

And what had Lady Spiral said about Sir Riley?

_He sponsored a gladiator – no one knows who – even though he is betrothed to the queen, and instead of tattooing his name on the gladiator's back, rumour has it that he tattooed a map of Sinnoh there instead…_

As Lucas moved closer and closer to the cell – so close that Nova could see the small frown on his lips as he took in the pain in her eyes – she turned to Barry.

"Barry, take off yer shirt."

The poor lad only scoffed. "Nova, I thought you quit fancying me _years _ago-"

"Barry, take off yer blasted shirt and show me the bloody tattoo."

"Me tattoo? Of Lucas's name?" he asked. "The one that took bloody eight hours?"

"Aye."

He didn't have to take it off. For, the second he started prying his shirt away from his belt, Nova saw enough. She saw the swirling ink of water, of mountains, of villages. The forests and valleys and lakes.

The fucking map of Sinnoh.

"Oh, shit…"

"…_nova, i'm sorry…" _

And Nova knew why the Darkrai was sorry. She, herself, was starting to feel a whole fucking lot sorry.

There was no Lucas. Fantina had been right – Lucas didn't exist.

All this time, she had been with Sir Riley.

A man betrothed to the fucking queen.

* * *

Nova managed to leash herself by the time 'Lucas' made it to their cell, both her Pokémon and Barry's Pokémon right behind him. He had given her that stupidly boyish and limp grin of his, unlocking them, chuckling as Barry jumped onto his feet and hugged him. Barry, the gladiator who was _sponsored _by the bloody knight, and didn't even know his true identity.

As Barry rattled on about how bloody irritating it had been to be arrested in the middle of the night, the knight gave Nova a warm smile and held his arms to her.

But Nova stayed inside the cell, smiling coolly as she toyed with the ring on her hand.

"So, how do you do, Lucas?" she asked.

The knight lowered his hands awkwardly when he realised that the girl had no plans of touching him. "Nova, is that a ring?"

"Aye. I brought it for you. But maybe I'll give it to yer Clefable or Alakazam, instead."

"It wouldn't fit, I don't think."

"What about Torterra?"

Lucas shot her a bemused grin. "He doesn't have fingers."

"Oh. I suppose I'll just have to give it to Captain Snuggles, yer Lucario, then, aye?"

The silence was deafening as the knight and gladiator stared at one another, the lies and secrets no longer invisible between them, poor Barry coughing awkwardly as he asked the girl if she had gone mad.

But Lucas – no, _Sir Riley _– ignored the boy. He just took a long, slow breath.

"Nova, please, let me explain-"

"Why?" Nova snapped. "Why lie to us for so long? Were you _trying _to make me feel like an utter fucking fool?"

"Arceus, no," Lucas – fucking, _Riley_ – quickly said, reaching out for her. "I would never-"

Nova slapped his hand away, her own Pokémon flinching back at the force behind her fingers, the sharp echo of her palm against his wrist. "Don't touch me."

"Nova, _please-_"

But Nova was already shaking her head, laughing coldly.

It had been so plainly obvious. Joy had been _warning _her from the beginning, had been warning her even _after _Riley had bribed her with gold. Even Roark had known, hadn't he? He had called Lucas every other fucking name _except _for Lucas in Oreburgh, laughing as if it had been some wicked joke, laughing because it _was _some wicked joke.

"Everyone knew, didn't they?" Nova asked sharply. "Joy, Bebe, Roark – they all knew, but you didn't let them tell us. Why, dammit? _Why_? Why didn't you tell us that _you _were Sir Riley all along?"

This time, Barry took a sharp breath and swore. The knight closed his eyes and sighed.

"I was pretending to be a chariot driver when I first saw you," he said. "I was told I had to arrest you. So, when you first jumped on, I gave you a false name – something that wouldn't give away that I was a knight trying to arrest you. If I had introduced myself as Riley, you may never have jumped onto the chariot."

The knight shook his head, then, smiling faintly. "Arceus, you two, I thought I was going to have to _kill _you. And so, when you started saying all these great things about Sir Riley, I decided not to tell you. How could I tell you that the man you adored so much was about to murder you?"

Even as she watched him remember – even as she saw the fondness in his eyes – she wanted to cave. She wanted to let her knees buckle then and there, wanted to just give up, _give up_, because, oh Arceus-

All of it. Everything.

_Lies. _

"I didn't think you two would survive a day as gladiators," the knight admitted. "So, I thought there was no point in telling you who I was. It would make no difference. But when you _did _survive, and you were doing pretty bloody great, I decided to tell you. I made a promise to myself – at the Spring Dance, I would dance with both of you, and I would tell you honestly. And I was going to, but then-"

"But then I found out you were engaged," Nova finished.

Riley winced, but nodded. "Aye. You found out I was engaged. And I didn't want that to change things."

"You told me you loved me."

"I _do _love you-"

"Then why are you engaged to Queen Cynthia?"

The knight threw his hands up into the air. "Because she's the bloody queen! What do I say? Oh, nay, Cynthia, thanks for the proposal, but I think I'll be falling in love with a gladiator in a few months, so please go find another lad?"

"Oh, rich coming from you," Nova shot back, her voice icy. "Didn't _you _tell me not to treat her differently because she's the blasted queen?"

"Nova, I'm _sorry_…" Riley finally said. He touched his hand to his heart, his gaze locked on her as he added, "If Cynthia were here, I would call off the engagement just for you."

And, then and there, Nova felt her world crumble.

Because those were the same words her father had said to her mother. That he would leave his wife for her.

What did he do instead, though?

What did he fucking do?

"That's it, isn't it?" Nova said slowly. "That's why you didn't tell me. It was so you could make me love you, have me as your plaything while you marry the bloody queen, and once I got pregnant, you could just push me down the stairs and get away with it because, all along, I'd be trying to arrest some knight named Lucas when he doesn't even fucking _exist_."

Riley looked as if he had been slapped on the face. His face had paled, and his hands were shaking as Nova tore the ring out and tossed it onto the concrete beneath them.

If she had been paying attention, she would have seen that Leila the Roselia moved towards the ring to retrieve it, only to be enveloped in a sharp glow at the touch of the shiny stone. She would have noticed that her Roselia had evolved into a Roserade.

But Nova wasn't paying attention. She was too busy staring at her lover – at her _liar _– and fighting back the fury in her heart.

"Nova," Riley was saying, his hand moving towards her, "I would _never _do that-"

Nova stepped back, scowling. "Don't. Touch. Me."

And so, the Knight on High lowered his hand and face and bowed in shame. In regret.

"I don't want to see your face again, you hear?" Nova whispered.

"Nova…"

"_You hear_?"

Riley nodded. "I hear."

And, with a sharp call to her Pokémon, November and her shadow stormed out of the dungeons. None of them giving the poor knight a second glance. None of them letting anyone see them break.

Only Barry and Riley remained, listening to her heavy footsteps.

"I'm sorry, Barry," Riley said softly. "I lied to you, too."

Barry reached out and felt for his Prinplup and his Ponyta, shrugging. "It's fine. In fact, it's pretty bloody _wicked_. I'm sponsored by freaking _Sir Riley_? Future King of Sinnoh? Bloody hell, me mother would be so bloody proud."

"You're not upset? You don't hate me?"

"Naw, I don't carry hate." Then, lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, "Nova carries enough hate for both of us. She always has."

Sir Riley frowned at that, but Barry felt for his hand and squeezed it tight.

"Don't worry," he whispered to the knight. "You still have a chance with her."

"She told me that she never wanted to see my face again, Barry."

The boy's unseeing eyes were shining, though.

"Aye, but when she said that, she waited for _you _to agree, did she not?"

"So?"

"Nova doesn't wait for anyone she doesn't like."

* * *

Nova was livid.

She had never felt rage like this before – rage that made her entire body simmer as she thought about every moment, every fluttering feeling in her gut, every single damned _lie_.

The worst part?

People had known. But gold had kept them silent.

And even when they weren't bribed by gold, some had chosen to remain silent.

"You knew all along," she hissed to her shadow as she walked, her Pokémon silently stalking after her. "You knew all along, you arsehole."

"…_i am sorry…" _

"No, you're _not_. If you were sorry, I would have known way back in Solaceon, no? Or do you like to keep things interesting, is it? Do you fucking follow me around so you can laugh at every misfortune that comes my way?"

Sorrow slipped into the velvet voice of the shadow. _"…nova, you must realise that not everyone is here to ridicule you…" _

"Shut up. Just shut up and leave me alone. I don't want to see you again. I don't to see or hear you until the second I'm about to bloody die."

"…_nova, no…" _

"Go. _Now_."

Her Pokémon behind her shrank back as her voice cracked, as the Darkrai crawled out of her shadow and stared at her desperately.

"…_nova…" _

"Go!"

And so, with a final look and a gentle sigh, the shadow was gone.

Leaving Nova with her five champions, her shattered heart, and her murderous rage.

Leaving her feeling more alone than she had ever felt before.

* * *

**Secret 1: Lucas **_**is **_**Sir Riley, who is betrothed to the queen. **

**April Fools, Nova. April Fools. **

**From the very start, Lucas has always been Sir Riley. Same hair, same eyes, and the fact that they never actually met in the games (unless you played as the male protagonist). Also, come on. Lucas. Luca. Lucario. Come on. I couldn't help myself. **


	40. Chapter XXXVIII

**Chapter XXXVIII**

Nova sat by the docks, watching as sailors manned their boats and swore at the pirates. All around her, there were people – rich folk in their chiffon gowns and laced up tunics, shivering as the wind feverishly tore at them. More than that, there were _knights _everywhere, adorned in their armour and helm, reminding Nova of Lucas. Lucas, who didn't exist. Lucas, who was Sir freaking Riley.

Her Pokémon sat beside her, silent. Nova had, in all truths, nearly fallen into the water when she realised that Leila had evolved into a Roserade, and now, the grass-type sat on her lap as they watched the sunset. All the Pokemon held onto her – Tric squeezing her hand, Owl leaning her slimy body on the gladiator's other arm, Bailey finding his spot upon her head, and even Rhys, who was curled up right beside her.

Even with them beside her, with all the people around her, with the water caressing her feet, Nova felt completely and utterly alone. Hell, she even missed the _Darkrai. _

"You know," a voice said from behind her, low and muffled, "when you first stole the Chimchar from me, I knew you were special."

Nova froze at the voice.

She certainly hadn't heard _that _in a while.

With Tric's hand pressing tighter in her own, she heard a grunt as the man sat beside her, tore off his boots, and dipped his feet into the water.

"It was your eyes," he continued. "I thought there was a fire in them."

Nova snorted. "It was probably the Chimchar's tail."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it was because they reminded me a lot of myself."

"Aye?"

Duke Rowan gave her a grin. "That slyness. Recklessness. That's who I was when I was young, and that's who my children were, too, when they were young. It runs in our blood."

The thought of his children – Lord Byron and Lady Fantina – made Nova wince.

"Are you here to talk about eyes, or about how I burnt down your daughter's ballroom?"

"I'm here to talk about your eyes."

"Very funny."

But Rowan only shook his head. "I'm not being funny. I mean it."

"What?"

"You were right," he simply said. "There was no fire in your eyes. That was the Chimchar's tail."

Tric snorted at that, but the others leaned in closer to Nova, listening to the way her heart thrummed quicker.

"Then what about me reminded you of yourself, old man?" she asked.

"We have the same eye colour."

He gestured down at the water – smooth and clear enough that Nova could see it, too. The same steel-blue eyes, big and light. One with crinkles and white lashes framing them, and one with lashes as dark as night.

"It's not an easy colour to find," Rowan continued. "Even my son and daughter don't have it. But you do."

Nova stared at him through the reflection along the water.

Staring and staring.

Thinking about everything Fantina had said to her. Thinking about why Duke Rowan, of all people, possibly would have ever tried going to Twinleaf after he was no longer the king.

"What are you trying to tell me, old man?"

"I've spoken to Riley," he told her, arching his brow as the girl flinched at the name. "He told me who your mother is. And I have always known who Lady Vernia had an affair with."

Nova felt her body still. "How would you know?"

"Because she had an affair with my son, November."

And it all, finally – _finally _– made so much sense.

Fantina and Byron shouldn't have been just plain legionaries. They should have stayed in the castle, if their father was a duke. Fantina would have gotten away with her affair because Volkner was Cynthia's brother, but—

"I was so disappointed in _both _my children that I asked Cynthia to take away their royalty," Duke Rowan said. "Even if it meant that my grandson, Roark, couldn't be a prince. Because neither Fantina nor Byron deserved it, after what they did to Lady Vernia. Cynthia has a merciful heart; she let them be legionaries instead, though they don't deserve it. For now, though, I'm banned from Spring Dances, too."

Nova didn't know what to say for a long time.

Because, if Lord Byron was her father…

"I'm your granddaughter," Nova said suddenly.

"Aye."

"And you're my grandfather."

"Aye."

"My grandfather was the old bloody king of Sinnoh."

"Aye."

"I am the granddaughter of a bloody king."

This time, Duke Rowan snorted a laugh. "Getting a bit redundant, aren't we, lass?"

But Nova was shaking her head, her throat tight, her eyes burning with tears.

All this time, her back had her own grandfather's name on it.

She had a father. An aunt. A grandfather.

_Family. _

A pretty shit family, nonetheless.

"When I was the king, there was no time to go to Twinleaf and check," he admitted. "So, I asked Prince Volkner to do it. I sent him almost every single damned week, and he didn't find her. I thought she was dead. And, on the day I went to check for myself, you came along and ripped holes in my plan. And, yet, at the same time, I didn't realise that you were the answer I had been looking for."

It was strange, hearing those words from the old man. It was strange knowing that someone had been out there, all along, looking for her. That Volkner hadn't just been there to make his head grow bigger, but he had come all this time because of _her_.

"I nearly kissed Sir Riley when he told me just a few hours ago," Duke Rowan added. "I have a granddaughter."

"A pretty shit excuse of a granddaughter, if you ask me."

But he wasn't taking it. He glanced at her through the water again, shaking his head.

"A granddaughter who has come all the way from Twinleaf to Canalave by foot? Who spent her childhood learning to find fend for herself? Who, by choice, stayed in Twinleaf to look after her mother?" He smiled – a smile that was full of warmth, of hope, of love. "I think she might just be greater than her grandfather ever was."

Those were the words that did it – that made November of Twinleaf burst into tears.

And, for what was eighteen years overdue, her grandfather reached out and held her.

"I'm sorry I've left you on your own while you've been a gladiator," he whispered. "I've been so busy trying to create these things-"

Nova, through her own sobs, managed to mumble, "Things?"

"They're little plates, I'm thinking. Like, what if people, too, had the same skills as Pokémon? I want to see if it's possible."

"I wouldn't need Tric to help me burn down Fantina's ballroom, then."

He laughed at that. "You mean _Aunt _Fantina."

And, though she laughed with him, Nova couldn't help but think about Cyrus – about his words to her in Celestic.

If someone _had _stopped time to save Vernia from falling down the stairs, what would have happened? Would she have grown up in the castle with Duke Rowan? Would she have spent her days laughing with her half-brother, Roark, as they learnt how to read and write?

What would she have become?

_Who _would she have become?

* * *

It didn't take long for Nova to convince herself into signing up for the legionary battle.

After all, she had finished her revenge against Fantina. Now, it was time to face her father, Lord Byron, and give him the same hell he had given her mother when he decided to push her down the stairs.

With Duke Rowan looking after all her Pokémon – something about trying _train _them, apparently – Nova found herself within the mahogany walls of the Canalave inns, where gladiators were shoving past one another as they scrambled towards the counter. It was so different to when she had first seen the gladiators in Sandgem; their faces were now crusted with dried blood, their bodies were battered blue with bruises, and they no longer looked scared. They looked hardened. Stronger. Calmer.

By the time Nova reached the counter, where a small lanky boy stood, she felt her heart sink.

"Write yer name here, lass," he told her, pushing a pot of ink towards her. "We'll organise the draws."

"Draws?"

He nodded. "Aye. Fight one criminal at a time while Lord Byron watches all the matches. Then, he decides which gladiators he wants to fight."

"Oh."

"Aye. So write yer name here."

Nova tried not to curse aloud. Even if he watched her fight, she wasn't nearly as big or tough as the other gladiators. There was no way she could catch his attention unless, perhaps, she used Rhys and slaughtered both the criminals _and _the audience—

But then there was the other issue.

She couldn't even sign her name.

Luckily – or, well, _unluckily_ – she heard a voice call out behind her. Riley's voice.

"Nova!" he was saying. "Did Duke Rowan tell you-"

Nova ignored him, turning back to the boy at the counter. "Can you please tell that lad behind me to leave me alone?"

"You mean, The Knight on High?" he asked her, eyes wide.

"I don't care who he is. Tell him to leave me alone."

But it was too late; Sir Riley was standing right behind her, his face infuriatingly close as he said, "And tell her to stop ignoring me."

"And tell him that I told him I didn't want to see his face again."

"Tell her that I know who her father is."

"Tell him that I know who he is, too!"

"He told you?"

"Yes, he told me—Dammit, tell _him _that Duke Rowan already told me!"

As Nova scowled at the knight, the poor lad by the counter pulled back the bottle of ink and paper. "I'm gonna… leave you two be."

He moved over to the other side of the counter, where another gladiator was waiting. The second he was gone, Nova whirled around to face Riley.

"What do you want?" she hissed.

Riley glanced over her shoulder, at the counter, brow raised. "You're going to need help writing your name down, aren't you?"

"I don't need your help. I can ask anyone else here to write it down for me."

"This is true." With a sly grin, he added, "I might write it wrong, too, since I've been saying my own name wrong for the past few months, aye?"

And though Nova was ready to reach out and slap him, she couldn't help it. The way he said it, the flustered grin, the guilt in his eyes—

_Don't slap him, don't slap him, don't—_

"Here's the issue," Riley added. "A lot of gladiators don't know what you look like, but they know your name from Veilstone and Pastoria and burning down Fantina's ballroom. Are you sure you want that attention spreading here, too?"

"I…"

"Besides, I _did _come here to write Barry's name. I may as well write yours."

She was mad at him for lying. She was mad at him for being engaged.

But, most of all, she was mad at him because, once again, he was right.

"Fine."

"There's a condition, though."

_Oh, of-fucking-course. _

"What is it?" she snapped.

"Nothing outrageous. I promise."

She stared at him for a long time, reading his gaze. Frowning.

"I am not going to race you on a Rapidash, Riley."

"What about a-"

"No sparring, either."

Before he could even open his mouth, Nova raised her hand.

"No dancing, too."

He raised his own hands in surrender. "You're awfully hard to please, Nova."

"And you're an awful piece of shit."

Once again, he grinned. And Nova had to bite her own lip to stop herself from telling him to piss off.

"A hand shake," he finally said. "That's all I ask."

"Fine."

Except, when she reached out and touched his hand, the sly bastard pulled her in. Not for a kiss, no, but to wrap his other arm around her and whisper a single word very softly in her ear.

Nova shoved him away and stepped back. Ignored his single word. Turned back to the counter and glared at the boy behind it.

"My name is November," she told him. "I can't write, so I need you to write it for me-"

"November?" the lad repeated. "From Twinleaf?"

"Aye."

He raised the paper in the air, frowning. "Your name has already been written. The Knight on High did it earlier this morning."

"He—_what?_"

She turned around, ready to throw her fist into Riley's gut. But he was already shooting her a wicked, lopsided grin as he ducked behind another gladiator and rushed towards the door.

"Arsehole!" she called out after him.

Even then, though, she couldn't stop thinking about the single word he had whispered. The single word she had tried not to hear.

_Sorry. _

* * *

Fury burned in Nova's belly. With her teeth clenched tight, she faced Duke Rowan and his glittering eyes, him barking out orders with each jump and parry. Even her Pokémon were staring from the side, sweating and panting from their own sparring against the older man.

"You can't just brawl, November," he was saying, his grip tight on his sword. "You have to _think_. It's a chequered board, and you must play your opponent like a game. Leash your anger."

And yet, Nova's attacks were vicious. Blinding. Dancing across the cobblestones by the docks, sliding between Duke Rowan's blows. And, all along, her grandfather kept toying with her – letting her dodge and weave and grow wearier by the moment.

"You must study their patterns," he continued. "You must know your patterns. And aim for the kill."

He shifted from back foot to front foot in the blink of an eye, moving swift and graceful, knocking the sword from Nova's hand and the side of his blade onto her stomach.

"Now, what did you learn, Nova?"

She stood there, grasping her bruising belly, too breathless to speak.

"What did you learn?"

"I learnt that you're a pain in the arse."

"We don't have time for the snark," he said wryly. "You have to fight gladiators tomorrow to impress your own father, and Lord Byron isn't going to choose you for having a sharp tongue."

He turned on his heel, ready to leave her there, when she suddenly gritted her teeth.

"Again," she said.

Duke Rowan glanced over his shoulder. They had been sparring all through the day, with the sun burning on their backs. She had fallen over and over, no doubt bruising beneath her armour.

Despite that, she scooped her sword back up and levelled herself.

"Again."

And, in that moment, he realised that he couldn't have been prouder.

* * *

There was a man standing on his balcony, the green and blue flowers coiling along the railing as he watched the silver light of the moon sweep over Canalave. He was sighing, rubbing his tired eyes, touching his heart.

There was a girl watching him from the side, flying on her Staraptor, hidden away the night. She wondered what he was thinking. Did he think of her mother? Of her? Did he look at those hands of his and think about what horrid, horrid things they had done?

This was the man who had tried to murder her. The man who ruined her mother's life.

It was painfully addictive, the simmering anger in her gut, just beneath the bruised patch of skin.

Bailey could sense it in her. He even squawked softly, breaking the gladiator out of her spell.

"What is it, Bailey?" she whispered.

Another sad caw. Softer. Sweeter.

"I know he looks sad. But it doesn't change anything."

A snort, this time. Nova frowned.

"He does _not _look like me."

"_Star_?"

Nova reached down and patted Bailey's head.

"I'll be good. I promise. Though, you know what my mother used to say?"

The Staraptor cocked his head to the side, listening.

"She told me that it's better to break a promise than to let a promise break you."

**~.~**

**Hope everyone is well! I don't have much to say about this chapter, really, other than the fact that it's a preparation chapter. Because next chapter, well. Nova has to impress her father. **


	41. Chapter XXXIX

**Chapter XXXIX**

"When I say _destroy it_, Owl, I don't mean to give it a bloody shower."

The Gastrodon frowned at Nova, at the big stone standing before them. Then, closing her eyes, she gathered all the strength she had – every single bit of courage she had in that slimy body of hers – and shot out a burst of water towards the rock.

Except, it wasn't just any rock. It was a rock with a face carved on it.

And, for some reason, that alone made Owl's blast of water waver ever so slightly, made it only spray arcs of white along the surface. No cracks, no dents, and certainly no destruction.

"You can do better than that," Nova said. "Don't make me feed you ale, too."

In truth, she knew ale wouldn't fix it. Owl's hesitation was nothing like Bailey's. The Staraptor didn't _mind _the ruthlessness; he only overthought every single damned move he made. On the other hand, the Gastrodon _knew _what she was doing.

She just was too nice to want to do it.

"Owl," Nova finally sighed. She crouched beside the Gastrodon, pressing their heads together. "This man tried to kill me before I was born. He might be the one trying to kill me now. We _can't _be nice. We're here to _kill_."

_Kill. _

That was the word that sent Owl shrinking back.

And though Nova kept her gaze still and her mouth a firm line, she couldn't help that pang of sympathy. Because, if she were completely honest with herself, she knew what the Gastrodon was feeling. And she felt it, too, now that she had sent away the Darkrai.

Fear.

The fear of getting in trouble with knights. The fear of living with guilt for the rest of their lives. The fear of standing in an arena, watched by hundreds and hundreds of knights and gladiators alike, and doing something stupid enough to have their throats sliced off.

Nova was more than aware of the fact that her father would be watching her every move in that arena. Worse yet, there was a voice in her head, reminding her that those knights from her thirteenth birthday may have been in the crowd – so close, yet so far from the blade of her sword.

Her stomach churned at the thought. Her own mind told her that it was a fool's decision to continue with the Gladiator Games, just to be face to face with her father. The chances of him picking her amongst hundreds of other gladiators were slim enough as it was, and the risk of having a sword plunged in her chest felt too high.

But she was on a quest for vengeance. For herself, her mother, and maybe even Bebe.

And nothing was going to stop her. Not even her own blasted Gastrodon.

"Owl," she said again, slowly. "Destroy. The. Fucking. Stone."

Once again, the Gastrodon shot her a look that was so full of worry – so full of _fear _– that Nova felt her face grow hot.

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Are you going to do it, or not?"

Owl glanced at the rock. Then, she shook her head.

And Nova scowled.

"Fine," she said curtly. "If you're not going to do it, then I'll ask Leila to fight with me, instead."

She turned on her heel, ready to leave, though she _did _keep sneaking glances over her shoulder to make sure Owl was following her.

After all, she loved Owl.

She just hated that the damned Gastrodon was reminding her that there was another option.

_Forgiveness._

* * *

As it turned out, Canalave didn't have an arena.

It had a pit.

Iron Pit, they called it, and it wasn't even _in _the main town. All morning, gladiators were sent piling onto little canoes and pirate ships, heading straight towards the execution island of the criminals. Already, she could see some of those criminals lined up along the island, heaped on wagons, their shackles singing a song of rust and metal as they watched their killers step onto the island.

Not only were there gladiators and criminals, but townsfolk and legionaries had come, too. According to some whispers, Fantina had organised all the legionaries to come. Nova tried not to think about why.

Instead, she let a knight drag her towards one end of the pit, through the ragged cheers and grunts of pain, the clink of coin and the crack of whips. A few of the criminals she passed hooted at her, no doubt hoping that _she _– the thin girl with pretty eyes – would be assigned to kill them, hoping that she was as weak as she looked.

And though she tried to grit her teeth as some of the criminals – the ones that were unchained – pawed at her curves, at her face, she couldn't stop Leila the Roserade from reaching out and slapping them away with her vines.

One of the men howled as he felt the red welt along his cheeks, and Nova smiled coolly. Then, she and Leila held firmly onto each other and followed the knights towards the Iron Pit's gates. One knight with his plumed helm caught sight of her tangled curtain of hair, and strolled over.

"Can you see Byron?" he whispered to her.

Nova rolled her eyes as she recognised Riley's voice. "Aye. The fat bastard."

"They're _all _fat bastards."

"The fattest, then."

She saw Riley smile at that, and instead turned to squint at the legionaries lined along the edge of the pit.

In truth, Byron wasn't fat at all. He was seated under a broad parasol, in long frock coat and cravat knitted tightly to his body. He was big – no doubt – not with fat, but muscle. His son, Roark, was beside him, leaning and grinning against his father's shoulder.

Fantina was far away from them both, frowning as she and Volkner searched through the gladiators. No doubt searching for her.

But, before they could find her, Nova heard one of the knights call something out. Saw a criminal get tossed into the arena, a mountain of muscle and scars. Then, a gladiator stumbled across the sand, looking as thin as a stick, his sword drawn.

Nova heard Riley take a sharp breath, and felt her own heart pause.

_Barry_.

He had a Heracross with him now, and before Nova could properly take in her friend's new Pokémon, the match had begun.

Heracross darted towards the man, and though the criminal was armed with a wooden sword, it was slapped away from his hands in less than a second. Then, as the bug-type wrapped its claws around the man, Barry strolled over – following the sounds of the man's baying and howling as the Heracross stuck its pronged horn up his, well, near his arse.

When Barry came along, hilt of the sword raised, feeling for the man's hair so that he could bash him, Byron suddenly rose to his feet.

"Hang on," the legionary called out. "Lad, are you _blind_?"

Somehow, through the cheering and clapping, Barry had heard him. He grinned limply, not quite smiling in the right direction, and shrugged. "Aye?"

Byron's jaw dropped, and suddenly, he was raising his hands and clapping loudly. Fiercely. Urging the audience to do the same.

Then, to Nova's absolute horror, Byron strolled away from the legionaries and into the pit. The Heracross immediately released the criminal, and with one gesture from Byron, the man was sent running back to the corner of the ring, relief rolling in his eyes.

"Five legionary crystals, _and _you're blind," Byron said, shaking his head. "_That's _a true warrior. I would love to choose you to be one of the six gladiators I spar tomorrow."

Just like that. Barry had earned his chance at getting that sixth legionary crystal.

Barry grinned like an idiot, and even reached out to _hug _Bryon. Her father. The man who tried to murder her.

Of course, Barry didn't know that yet. Riley hadn't told him yet. Still, Nova couldn't help that stab in her heart – that stab of betrayal, of jealousy, of _fury. _

"He's not a bad man," Riley whispered beside her. "Byron raised me since my mother died. Nova, remember, eighteen years is a long-"

Nova raised her hand. "He raised you, and you lied to my face for months."

"Only about my name."

"And about your lovely engagement with Queen Cynthia."

That shut up him. Roserade even gave him a pitiful look.

But there was no time for that. For, in that second, another knight called Nova's name. The holding pen door opened. And the gladiator entered.

The second she was in the centre of the pit, she tore her helm off and kicked it aside. She let her long hair dangle behind her, hoping that it would remind Byron of a certain lover, hoping that it would be enough to catch his attention.

Jeers rang across the bleachers, choking guffaws and fountains of hoots. The sight of the small, long-haired girl and a Roserade standing in the centre of the ring wasn't impressing any of the criminals – let alone any of the knights.

But Maylene and Wake were there, cheering her name. And Barry, who was now seated only a pew away from Byron, was screaming the loudest at the sound of his best friend.

That's all that mattered, even as spits and curses rained down onto Nova.

Her opponent moved to face her, grinning behind his wooden sword. Broad as a bridge, brown skin glistening with sweat.

"Don't worry, lass," he told her, snorting. "This won't hurt for very long."

Nova stood motionless as the criminal moved in on her. But, the second he raised his blade to stove her skull in, she moved.

A sidestep, the blade whistling past her head. Roserade cracked her vine on the man's wrist, probably shattering bone, sending him screaming. Nova kicked fiercely at his knee, ignoring the nauseating crunch as the joint bent the wrong way. Then, when the man dropped with a single cry, she slammed her boot directly into his throat.

_That _was one way to get the attention of the knights that had laughed at her. It was certainly one way to make Byron's brow arch.

Because, with a gurgle and some froth of blood on his lips, the man toppled dead on the sand.

Murmurs rippled amongst the townsfolk, no doubt _finally _remembering where they had first heard November's name – in the Veilstone arena. Nova grinned at Byron, bowed her head and curtsied, waiting for him to select her.

But he didn't.

"Not impressed enough," Nova muttered to Leila, who frowned. "What now?"

Leila smiled and winked at her. Then, before a knight came along to march her off, the Roserade pointed one of her roses to the greasy criminal that Barry had nearly killed.

And Nova grinned, too.

"You're next," she told him.

The knight that had come to escort Nova froze. Once the match was over, the gladiator was supposed to march off. That was that. The gladiator was never supposed to demand _another _opponent.

With a glance at Legionary Byron, who only shrugged, the knight went back to his place.

The criminal stepped forward slowly, and Nova skipped up to meet him. He was already sweating and panting from his brief spar with Barry, already sneaking glances down at his rags that were soaked with his own blood.

Nova almost pitied him.

In fact, their match lasted less than a minute, ending with Nova's fist in his chest and Leila's vines wrapped around his pretty throat.

Nova turned back to Legionary Byron. Curtsied again. Smiled.

Still nothing. His lip only quirked up in a brief smile, as if he were _amused _by her.

She glanced at Leila, both of them frowning.

She hadn't even used her _sword _yet. What sort of joke was this?

"You," she called out, pointing towards the next criminal that was in line. "You're next."

The big man looked at the two corpses that lay by Nova's feet. "Fuck that shit."

Leila made a small noise in Nova's ear, and the gladiator grinned.

"Then bring yer pals," she told him. "Leila and I are can handle three of you."

She ripped her sword from her belt and tossed it onto the dirt, kicking it aside so that it lay beside her helm.

"Or are you all scared of getting yer arse kicked by a girl?"

The crowd hooted and jeered, and the criminal and the two men nearest to him hissed. To be brought to their death by a girl in front of Legionary Byron was one thing, but to eat a plateful of her shit talk?

With flashing eyes and wooden swords drawn, the three men stepped into the Iron Pit.

And, with a smile of her own, hoping desperately that they couldn't see the fear in her eyes or the trembling of the Roserade beside her, she stepped up to meet them.

* * *

The three men were almost more than Nova and Leila could handle.

It started well enough. The criminals had advanced, spurred on by the hooting crowd and the sword that Nova had thrown into the dirt. The first – a burly man – had bellowed and swung his blade at her head. And, with an exchanged glance with her gladiator, Leila's vines had reached and grabbed his feet, stopping his charge short.

With the vines woven around his ankles, he lost his balance. Nova kicked him hard in the knee, punched him square in the throat, and as he topped backwards, she caught the wooden sword that flew from his hands.

Leila gave her a long glance as the gladiator twirled the sword in her hands. Nova winked back at her.

"I know I'm showing off," she told the Roserade. "Isn't that the-"

The blow caught her on the back of the head, sending her reeling. She barely managed to turn and counter the next flurry, and she staggered back as the two remaining men advanced onto her. There was no time to catch her breath – not with the warm blood dripping down the back of her neck.

One of the men lunged, swinging at her face and throat and chest. Nova blocked it, locking her own wooden sword with his, grunting as her blade sank lower and lower while his pressed closer and closer—

Her Roserade was there, ready to slip her vines around his feet, but the third man cracked across her ribs before she could – sending the poor grass-type sprawling onto the dirt.

Nova kept her grip on her sword, ducking and rolling aside just as she heard Leila yell something out.

Then, as the gladiator scrambled on the ground, the Roserade slung a handful of petals into one of the men's eyes. As he hissed, Nova lashed out with her boot, sent him stumbling back. And, beneath the cheers of the crowd, she took a shuddering breath. Feeling sick in both her heart and gut.

The cost of vengeance. What was it?

_What was it? _

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the man.

Then, she crouched low and smashed the hilt of her sword onto his face, smearing blood across his nose and cheeks.

"_Rose_!"

Nova turned at the sound of Leila, barely managing to block a blow that had moved for her skull. The last burly man was there, vomit and spit on his lips. She danced around him in the dust – strike and riposte, weave and flurry. He was _big _– twice as wide, twice as strong. But, unlike him, she was _fast_.

He swung hard, snapping her sword in half as she blocked. But, with a small cry, she crouched low and smashed her broken sword up beneath his chin.

And, as the splintered wood punctured his throat, leaving pools of red dribbling down, Nova felt her own throat tighten.

_The cost of vengeance. _

_What was it? _

She tried to remind herself that one of these criminals could have been a knight five years ago. It could have been the man who touched her on her thirteenth birthday. It could have—

Roserade shrieked again, but this time, Nova heard it a second too late. A wooden sword caught her across the shoulder, sending her reeling as the crowd roared. The man – the man who was still blinking petals away from his eyes, who was bleeding from his nose and mouth – struck her in the ribs.

Sweat. Dirty breath. Blood.

That's what Nova smelt as he punched her once, twice —

With a ragged cry, the Roserade forced herself up, wincing as she reached out with her vines and locked them around his feet. Even with sand in her eyes, with pain in her little green body, she pushed backwards on his ankles.

His feet rooted, the man fell, Nova toppling onto him, her fingers finding his eyes, hooking her fingers there and _twisting_.

The man screamed from the pain, and it was almost horrendous to hear the crowd bay. It was almost enough to send Nova raising her hands in surrender, to send her back to Twinleaf as she wondered what she had become.

But the sight of Byron's wide eyes kept her going.

She pounded on the criminal's jaw with her fists. Once. Twice. Three times. Hands red. Teeth gritted. Blood in her mouth. Picturing a smiling woman with long, dark hair and broken legs. Picturing a man with a beard and a voice like sand. And though the man's face was already bruised and swollen, she pounded again and again—

Leila made a small sound. A sound of concern. Of fear.

And again, Nova punched. Remembering her mother, thinking of her half-brother, her aunt, her father, everything she could have been, everything he had taken from her, the way they all would have spat on Bebe's grave if they had the chance—

A vine wrapped around her wrist. A Roserade strolled up to her gladiator.

And Leila gave November a hug.

The gladiator fell still. Drenched in sweat, breath burning, covered in cold tears and warm blood.

"Thank you," she whispered to Leila.

Then, the world came back into focus, the volume of the crowd swelling around her. And, beneath the thundering pulse and echoes of her murder, Nova heard it. Ringing in her chest and tingling at the tips of her fingers.

Applause.

Coming straight from Legionary Byron.

Nova stood, her arms painted in red. The crowd was on their feet, save for Volkner and Fantina, who were scowling down at her. Barry's eyes were closed as his Heracross said something in his ear, his face blank, biting his lip. Even Sir Riley looked utterly shocked, his face pale as he watched the girl he had grown so fond of. Not regret in his eyes, but worry.

But Nova didn't look at him.

On their trembling legs, she and Leila walked across the pit and stood before her father. Dropped into another, stupid curtsey.

Byron regarded her with narrowed eyes. Then, with his hand raised in the air, he smiled.

"November, was it?"

Nova nodded, silent.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

She shook her head.

Byron scratched his beard, frowning.

"Well, that was certainly a show," he told her. "And it would be an absolute honour to spar with you tomorrow."

Nova's heart almost skipped a beat.

Because, despite the death, the horrors, the monsters within her, she was one step closer to revenge.

* * *

With every minute that passed, Nova's hatred towards Byron grew.

Not because he was rude and scathing like Fantina. Not because he was cold and cruel like Volkner.

No.

Because he was bloody _nice_.

He had spoken to all gladiators – both his selected six _and _the ones who had failed – and had invited them to his manor. _His manor_. The rich thing that was shaped like a giant dome, made of white marble and red brick, with not a single stain or smudge around the gold-rimmed balconies.

Even in the stupidly beautiful dining chambers, with long stretches of fruit and pastries on tables, Nova's heart felt like it was rotting as she watched her father.

He was going around to every table, to every gladiator, shaking their hand. It didn't matter if they had won or lost. He spoke to them softly, telling them about what he had loved about their sparring, offering tips on how they could have been quicker or stronger or deadlier.

"So…" Barry was saying beside Nova, frowning. "Yer fight today. Hera told me that ya killed, what, five lads? Are ye… okay?"

No. She was not okay. All Nova wanted to do was slap Byron in the face, or run back to the Canalave inns where her Pokémon awaited her, or, hell, she even wanted to find Sir Riley. Talk to him. Hold him.

But he was engaged. He had _lied_.

Just like Lord Byron had almost nineteen years ago.

"I'm fine," Nova lied, sighing as her friend dug into another loaf of bread.

"I dunno. Yer voice sounds a little brown."

"Brown?"

"Yeah. I know when yer lying, and I can tell you right now, yer mouth is full of shit."

Nova laughed at that, but she felt her blood turn cold as she realised that Byron was moving towards them. A big, stupidly sweet grin on his face.

"Good fighting, you two," he was saying, plopping himself beside Barry. "I've never seen two young gladiators so daring. Where are you from?"

_Your motherstinkin' britches, you bloody wank—_

"We're from Tw-"

Nova interrupted Barry quickly, saying, "Snowpoint. We're from Snowpoint."

Barry frowned at that, but nodded, nonetheless. "Aye. Snowpoint. Very warm there."

"Warm?" Byron repeated. "I thought Snowpoint was known to be quite cold?"

"Oh, shit, Nova, is snow the white one or the-"

"It's warm because we're used to it," Nova cut in. Then, she leaned in towards Byron, taking in his face. His high cheeks. His slanted nose. His long, thin smile.

He _did _look like her, dammit. He _did_.

"Say, Byron," Barry said. "What happens to the gladiators who didn't make the six today?"

Byron reached out and patted his back. "They try again, lad. That's the point. Push away the weak ones, so they know they have to get stronger."

Nova took a sharp breath. Felt her heart come to a halt.

_Push away the weak ones. _

Just like he had pushed her mother down the bloody stairs?

Just like she had done to Owl, just that morning?

Nova's chair squealed as she shoved it back and stood. She didn't even say a quick farewell to Barry.

She just turned on her heel and rushed out of the home that could have and should have been hers.

* * *

Leila the Roserade had been explaining to the other four Pokémon exactly what had happened in the pit. The five dead bodies, the fury in their gladiator's eyes, the way Byron had finally agreed to battle her.

Only Rhys the Luxray looked proud. Tric and Bailey exchanged a concerned glance, and Owl had lowered her head.

Just then, Nova burst into the room. Her gaze swept across all of them – her five champions, all evolved, all staring back at her with big eyes.

Then, she strode over to her Gastrodon, sank to her knees, and wrapped her arms around the slug.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so bloody sorry."

Owl made a small sound, but melted into the gladiator's embrace. And, soon enough, Leila's vines were dragging all of them – even Rhys – into the hug, surrounding their gladiator. A ring of love. A ring of relief.

And they stayed like that for a long, long time.

* * *

**I won't even lie. I loved this chapter. Not sure why. **

**Thanks for reading, as always!**


	42. Chapter XL

**Chapter XL**

The plan had been simple: wake up the next morning, get her armour ready, head back to the Iron Pits, and kick her father's arse.

Except, then, the most mundane of things had happened.

November got _sick_.

And, as she had been scowling at Sir Riley for offering to escort her, she had felt the dizziness, the nausea. She had felt the bile in her throat and the snot in her nose.

Then, she had fainted. Just like that.

"The elders in Celestic call it Pokérus."

Nova squinted open her eyes, letting her back sink into the mattress as she coughed and pinched her snotty nose. "What?"

Joy frowned down at her, dabbing the gladiator's face with a wet cloth.

"Your sickness," the healer said. "Pokérus. You can't cure it. You just have to deal with it for a while. And it looks like your Pokémon do, too."

She gestured over to the side of the room, where Nova's Pokémon looked just as miserable as her. Gastrodon was shooting a beam of vomit at the wall, Leila was rubbing snot onto the blankets, Bailey was sneezing so hard that he kept flicking back and forth across the room, Tric was shivering like mad with the flames on his head dimmed, and even Rhys was slamming his head against the wall for no particular reason.

"Rhys," Nova croaked out, sitting up. "You're going to break the bloody wall-"

Joy urged Nova down with a tug at her wrist. "You need to rest."

"I need to fight Byron."

"If you even _try _fighting Byron now, you're going to have your throat ripped out from your arse."

Nova rolled her eyes. "Sounds great."

"True," the healer agreed, her lip curling into a smile. "At least you'll shut up for once."

The gladiator reached out to punch her, but Arceus, she was so _tired _that her fist wouldn't even curl up into a weak ball. So, instead, she sagged back against the bed and sighed.

"What are you even doing here, Joy?" she asked. "Aren't you supposed to be learning how to heal in Celestic?"

"Aye. But, while you were passed out, that knight friend of yours sent a bunch of knights to Celestic and demanded that a few of the healers come and treat you. I heard the ruckus, and the healers ended up sending me instead."

"Knight friend? Do you mean Sir Riley?"

Joy snorted. "Aye. He came to Celestic, too, with his group of knights. He thought you were going to die."

"How dramatic."

The healer opened her mouth, but suddenly frowned and shook her head.

"Nova," she said softly, "Riley's mother and sister died here. I don't think he wanted to lose another person here."

_What? _

Nova's eyes went wide, felt her heart twist for a second.

"This is Riley's house?"

Joy nodded. "Aye. Rebuilt after it was burnt down five years ago."

They lapsed into a thick, dark silence as Nova closed her eyes and leaned back.

When she had fainted, Riley must have taken her straight to his own home – to his own bed, she suspected, as she breathed in the faint smell of mint and tea, of steel and rust. Once again, he was there for her. Even after she had asked him never to see his face again.

"You knew all along that he was Riley," Nova said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't my place to tell."

Nova reached out and squeezed her hand limply. "You were right about him, though. He really _is _an ass-"

"No," Joy quickly cut in. "I wasn't right about him. I was jealous, and I was wrong."

"But he-"

Joy raised her hand to silence her. "Nova, I've grown up around courts. I've seen it all. When a nobleman has a pretty plaything, he impresses her by buying her diamonds and gowns and cute Pachirisu. But when she gets sick, he forgets her and finds another. He doesn't come all the way to Celestic with _tears _in his eyes, demanding elders to come with him to Canalave."

"Aye, but…"

"Besides, why would he choose _you _of all people?" Joy asked with a wicked grin. "Have you _seen _your face? There's thousands of girls out there who are both prettier _and _nicer than you."

Nova laughed at that one, and she felt Joy lean in close to brush through her wild splay of hair.

"He's outside," the healer whispered. "He hasn't left."

Nova glanced at the shut door across the room. Sure enough, if she listened carefully enough, she could hear footsteps pacing back and forth – could feel her own stomach churn without Darkrai there to sap away her nerves.

"Send him in," the gladiator finally said.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

* * *

Not only had Joy instantly ushered Sir Riley into the room, but the healer had practically scrambled out of the house. The second Nova heard the ringing slam of the door, she felt her head start to spin.

Of course Joy would leave her alone with Sir Riley. Of course.

Sir Riley, though, was staring at Nova with wide eyes. His gaze ran over her hair, her eyes, her clothes that were slick with sweat and the blankets that were twisted from Leila's snot.

"Well," he finally said. "You look like shit."

Nova scowled. "You know, I was just about to accept yer apology from before, but now I'm thinkin' that I shouldn't."

"What would you prefer me to say, then?"

The gladiator reached over with her hand and gestured for him to sit along the bed. When her Infernape hissed at the idea of that and leapt onto the bed, instead, Leila reached out with a vine and yanked him off.

So, with only a slight wince, the knight sat beside the gladiator.

"Don't say anything," Nova finally said softly. "Just let me look at yer face for a while."

"Are you-"

"Did I bloody stutter?"

With a small smile, he bit back his words and let the gladiator stare at him. She almost felt _stupid _for not recognising those eyes at the Spring Dance – noticing the clearness of them, and yet, that same storminess that seemed to linger whenever he looked at her. And though part of her was ready to shake him for lying to her for all that time, the other part of her won over and left her smiling.

"So, Sir Riley, hey?" she finally said. "I still don't see the fuss about yer face. It's pretty boring, if you ask me."

"Aye?"

"Aye." She took a long glance at his face again – the sharp bones, the soft tan. "Say, do people fall in love with your title and your face before they fall in love with you?"

And though she said the words casually, she knew he heard the real question behind them.

_Is that why you didn't want to tell me? _

_Because you wanted me to love you – not your rank? _

Sir Riley ducked his head, saying, "I suppose they do."

And though he said the words just as coolly, she heard the answer to her real question.

_Aye. _

It made sense. It made so much bloody sense. But, by Arceus, she was in Canalave – where her own father was the legionary. How could she trust anyone when all she could think about was the way her mother had been cheated over?

"Has Barry fought yet?" she suddenly asked. "Against Byron?"

"Not yet. I think that starts in about an hour."

Nova reached out and patted his arm. "Go watch him for me."

"And you? Who will look after you?"

She was going to point out that she had her five Pokémon with her, but when she realised that Rhys was still banging his head against the wall while Leila strangled Tric and Bailey dodged Owl's vomit, she decided against it.

"I'll be fine," she told him. "I promise."

He reached out to put his hand over hers, and Nova let him. She even let him smooth back her hair.

And, when he stood and moved towards the door, she called out after him.

"Sir Riley? I forgive you."

He froze by the door, his own eyes wide. "Even after I told you that you looked like shit?"

"_Especially _because you told me that I looked like shit."

With another lopsided grin, the knight left her there, lost in her own thoughts.

Only when she heard the door squeal shut behind him did she say her real answer.

"You're a liar, Riley. But I'm a murderer."

* * *

Even though Nova was coughing and choking on her own vomit for the rest of the day, she insisted on getting up and dragging her five Pokémon out of Sir Riley's home. They crawled all the way to the docks that were almost bare, since most of the sailors and knights were watching the games at the Iron Pit.

Then, they began to train – even through their sickness.

Or, at least, they tried to.

"Come _on_, just shoot him – _water_, Owl! I know you're sick, but by Arceus, please don't shoot _that _at us."

Rhys was already darting around the beams of what was certainly not water, but his movements were too sluggish – too slow. He slipped along the bits of spew along the pier, growling as he tripped and plunged straight into the water.

Bailey the Staraptor laughed the hardest – no doubt cawing something about _who was the clumsy one now? _In fact, _all _off them, through their coughing and sneezing, laughed at the sight of the Luxray paddling his way towards the shore, his fur falling in his eyes.

Leila tried to help him, ready to stretch her vines out to fish him out of the water. But, in the middle of a sneeze, something went wrong – her vine shrank back in, replaced by a flower, and golden dust went seeping out.

Then, Rhys was sinking as the paralysis took over. At the end of it all, Nova ended up stealing a net from the nearest dockside, and reeled her Luxray out by hand.

Seeing the big old grump caught in a net was enough to raise their spirits. Only Tric was frowning, though, his flames dwindling and weak from the Pokérus that infected his body.

Nova took a long glance at the Infernape, her lips pursed.

He was suffering. They needed to do _something _to bring the fire back to his head, to bring him back to life again.

And, suddenly, she had an idea.

"Let's play a game," she told them. "Dodge Owl's… well, er, whatever she spits at us. Owl, you ready?"

And so, they played. Dodging and weaving and spinning around the docks, laughing in between their coughs, choking in between their pants.

By the end, they were even working _together _to take down the Gastrodon.

Bailey had grabbed one of Leila's vines, sending her swinging away from the beams of garish yellow, bringing her close enough to shoot more golden powder onto the slug. Then, as the Gastrodon shrivelled up and froze, Rhys dashed towards it, ready to slam into her.

She saw it coming, already getting her next shot ready. But she _hadn't _expected Tric to leap up and off the Luxray's back, landing a punch – a gentle one, nonetheless – between her eyes.

Nova clapped as she watched them.

Because even though they were all spewing with sickness, they were stronger. Stronger than they had ever been, and more like a unit than they had ever been.

It was no wonder that, as a certain pair of eyes watched her, that certain person scowled.

* * *

Nova decided, despite herself, to spend the night in Sir Riley's bed again.

She had been awaiting the knight, hoping to talk to him more. Ask about Barry. About his engagement to Queen Cynthia.

Instead, though, with the moonlight pouring through the window, Lord Byron strolled in.

Nova saw all her Pokémon jump up, even though they were still pale from the Pokérus. Rhys and Tric were glaring at the legionary, with Leila's vines the only thing stopping them from lunging. Owl had 'accidentally' spewed up a bit on the man's boots as he walked in, and even Bailey had contained his sneezing to land softly on Nova's head. Ready to defend her, the lot of them.

Byron didn't even frown as the Gastrodon's vomit slid down his boot. He only gently patted Owl, not noticing the way she tried to reach out and bite him. Then, he strolled over to Nova and touched her warm forehead.

"November," he said. "I heard from Sir Riley that you were sick, and that's why I didn't spar against you today."

Nova lowered her head – not to show respect, but to shrug his stupid hand off her face. "Does that mean I don't get to spar against you at all?"

"Of course not," Byron answered, laughing slightly. "You earned your place. I will wait patiently for you to recover, and when you are ready, we shall spar."

"You have my thanks, Lord Byron."

But, though her words were oh, so sweet, she could hear the bitter edge desperately trying to creep out.

How could he seem so _nice_? How was he so damned kind, after everything he had done to her mother?

"Really, though," Byron suddenly said, narrowing his gaze. "Do I know you from somewhere, November?"

At those words alone, Nova saw, through the corner of her eyes, the fur rise along Rhys's back. Even Tric's flame along his head was bright once again, burning as he glared at the legionary.

Nova shot them a warning glance, and Leila tightened her vines around them.

_Not yet. _

Then, Nova turned to her father and smiled.

"I don't believe I know you at all, Lord Byron," she said.

Byron frowned. "Aye? But you just look so… familiar."

"Aye?"

"Aye. You remind me of someone."

Once again, that ache in her heart. That bitterness on her tongue that she had to leash back as she said, "Who, may I ask?"

For a moment, there was only pain in Byron's eyes. Pain and regret.

"Oh, you wouldn't know her," he said softly. "She died a long time ago."

"Were you close to her?"

"I loved her to pieces."

Bailey's talons tightened around her head. Leila's vines faltered. Because they could all feel the rage simmering in Nova's blood, could see the coldness in her eyes even as she tilted her head curiously and blinked sweetly.

"How did she die, then?" she asked.

Byron turned to stare at her sharply. "Why does it interest you?"

"I'm sick, and there's nothing much else interesting to do. Would you rather me vomit on you than ask a simple question?"

He didn't laugh at that, nor did he return her wry smile. He just glanced down at his hands – his shaking, guilty hands.

"She's dead," he said curtly. "And there's no bringing her back. I try not to think of it any further from there. What is dead will remain dead."

Those were the words that finally did it. That cut through Nova's heart, that made her want to reach out and strangle his throat.

She was not dead. Lady Vernia was alive and suffering, having Barry's adoptive mother help her out of her skirts and stockings just so that she wouldn't soil herself. She was eating nothing but bread crusts and rotten fruit. She had no one but her old parlour maid and a daughter that was inches away from the truth.

Besides, even _Cyrus _loved his wife more than Byron had loved Vernia. After all, Cyrus was still out there, trying to summon Dialga and change the past, was he not?

It made Nova want to scream at him. Did he know that Vernia was actually alive? Was he just saying she was dead to make him feel better – since death was far better than whatever fate Twinleaf had to offer?

At the sight of the electricity brimming along her Luxray's teeth and the flames along her Infernape's fist, though, Nova held herself back. Took a long breath. Smiled.

"You should probably leave," she told the legionary. "I need to rest so I can spar with you as quickly as possible."

"Aye, of course. I look forward to it."

And, with a brief touch of his hand against Nova's cheek – one that she was almost tempted to slap away – the legionary was out of the room.

Bailey hopped off Nova's head and sank into her lap, cocking his head to the side. Nova reached out and patted him.

"I know, I know. It was the perfect chance to get my revenge. We were alone, and I had all five of you while he had no one. But, instead, I asked him to leave."

The Staraptor nodded and frowned. Made a small sound.

"I don't want to do it in Riley's home, Bailey. Riley deserves better, and my mother deserves better."

Another caw. And, this time, Nova smiled.

"Once we're feeling better, we're going to do it in front of all of Canalave. In front of all his knights, all the gladiators, and all the damned legionaries."

She let Bailey lean in close, curling her arms around him and sighing.

"This bastard babe is taking her bastard father down."

* * *

**Fun fact: this little chapter, where not much happens, was not in the original plan for the story. This chapter was straight-up supposed to be Nova's battle against Byron. However, as I was writing out the legionary battle, I paused to write this instead (by the way, I am writing this in February. How strange is that?). There are a few reasons I wanted to include this chapter. **

**First of all: Pokérus. During my nuzlocke run, my Pokémon did, in fact, get the virus. In fact, we got it just before reaching Veilstone. For the sake of authenticity, I thought I may as well include it. And yes, I did make sure that Livia the Golbat caught the virus just before going into the PC – just so that, when/if I chose my sixth member of the party, I could ensure that I still had someone to pass on the virus. **

**Secondly, and more importantly, this is the calm before the storm. Usually, I don't like to tell you when shit is about to go down, but it's important to I talk to the readers now about this – especially those who are not binge-reading and are awaiting chapters every Friday. **

**We are in the second arc, otherwise known as the tango. And after Byron's legionary battle, things are going to get very, very messy. Why? Who knows? All I can say is that post-Canalave is when Galactic's story really starts getting involved in-game.**

**But, with most secrets out, there is actually another secret that came about a while ago that is going to have a huge impact on the story. **

**Basically, I'm just warning you: things are going to get wild. Make sure you brace yourself. You may find yourself hating some characters who you wanted to love. You may find yourself wanting to rip the story to shreds for doing some of the things that seem a bit too unfair.**

**Don't rip it to shreds, though. First of all, that'd involve printing it out and let's save the trees. **

**But honestly, have faith. **

**I'm not asking you to trust the narrator. I'm not asking you to trust Nova. **

**But I need you to trust me. **


	43. Chapter XLI

**Chapter XLI**

Hollow.

That's what Nova felt as she listened to the crowd stomp on the bleachers of the pit. Her long hair hung about her eyes, and she strapped the leather breastplate to her chest, the iron greaves on her shins. Cold. Methodical. Focused.

Barry had won his match days ago, a gleaming silver stone strung neatly onto his belt. In fact, only two gladiators of the five _hadn't _succeeded.

And she wasn't about to make it three.

Riley had held her hand that morning, whispering for her to be careful. Even Duke Rowan had greeted her by the edge of the pit, his final words a reminder – it wasn't blood she had to desperately seek, but the _patterns_.

Nova could still hear their words ringing in her ears as she was marched to the pit's bowels, the thrumming clamour of the crowd echoing above her. She could still see the black stone walls, the iron chains that had once bound the criminals she had killed, the sand that was all too familiar beneath her boots.

She clenched and unclenched her empty hands, nodding as Owl the Gastrodon moved beside her, holding a shield with her mouth. Both of them feeling the breathless energy, the desire, the itch in their hands. Both of them shaking with fear, missing the damned Darkrai as their stomachs flipped and churned.

Trumpets sounded, silencing the crowd, letting the anticipation drip down with their sweat.

"People of Sinnoh," Byron was calling out, stepping down his steps, away from the legionaries in his golden-decked armour. "I present my final challenger, sponsored by my own father, November of Snowpoint with her Gastrodon!"

The murmur came like a rising swell from the audience. Confusion from those who already knew her name, excitement from those who were yet to see her fight.

"And, fighting with me, is my Machamp, Spring!"

Then, the crowd was on their feet, roaring as the Machamp strode out and onto the sand behind Byron. It raised its four hands in greeting, the crowd bellowing in answer, thousands upon thousands.

Nova couldn't bite back her scowl, no matter how she tried.

_Spring_? After the Spring Dance? The place he had met her own mother?

_The bastard…_

"Now, we reveal the _real _battleground!"

Nova froze at that.

The _real _battleground?

_What? _

Before she could say anything, a deep rumbling rolled beneath the sands, just over the grinding and hissing of Steelix. The ground shuddered, and Nova crouched and held onto Owl as they were lifted _up_.

Sand cascaded down as the floor broke up into a wedged platform. She peered over the edge, her Gastrodon squirming beside her as they realised that—

Oh, by the shitting shadows, if they were to fall from _that _height, they would break their bones. Worse yet, a slip off the edge would lead them straight into the guts of the Steelix that were holding up the platform – their bodies big and heavy enough to mash them into little pulps.

"Oh, _shit_," Nova said softly.

The crowd cheered, gobsmacked. As if they had never seen it before.

Which meant that Byron had been saving it just for her. Saving it for the grand finale of his six chosen opponents for the week.

"Begin!"

And, before Nova could say another word, Byron's Machamp struck.

The fighting-type's four hands were clinging onto the hilts of four cruelly curved blades, gleaming black in the sunlight. It wheeled about as it leapt towards Nova, two of the swords glittering as they scythed through the air, right for the gladiator's throat. With a gasp, she dived right, hit the sand with her shoulder and rolled, the blades whistling above her.

She ripped out her own sword, turning to strike. Her single blade against two of Machamp's was a blur – blocking each strike edge for edge, sand flying as the girl twisted left and right and bent backwards, crying out as one of the strikes nearly scratched her chin.

Patterns. She had to think of the _patterns_.

She stumbled back, rolling up into a crouch just as she felt the Machamp step forwards again, swearing as she realised that, _dammit_, it had led her straight to the platform-edge. Where the Steelix awaited her below.

Owl the Gastrodon roared then, mud barrelling into the Machamp from behind, the shot crunching into the fighting-type's back and sending it flying away from her gladiator.

While it groaned and winced, trying to bring itself to its feet, Nova turned to her father. He was regarding her coolly, not moving from the centre of the platform. Watching her. Observing. Looking out for _her _patterns.

_Right. Time to change patterns…_

Nova turned back to Owl, her brow arched.

"Stay with me, and pick up the shield," she told the Gastrodon. "Let's get Byron before the Machamp is up again."

As if he could hear her, Byron poised his sword. Both Nova and Owl moved to meet him, the gladiator dashing out first, quick as silver and striking low. Gastrodon shot mud towards the ground, ready for the legionary to trip, before moving grabbing the shield from the ground and sliding forwards to guard her gladiator.

But Byron moved with stunning grace, slipping away from Nova's blade and darting away from the mud. When he raised his blade to counter Nova's, he smiled.

"You're quick," he muttered through his grunts. "You dance like the wind."

And Nova felt it then. The anger. It was all over her face, her eyes. Burning through her blood. Aching in her belly.

_Dance like the winds… _

This man was responsible for everything. _Everything_. Hurting her mother, leaving the dancer to soil her britches every day, forcing her to shove stale bread crusts down her throat as she remembered what it was like to dance with the fucking winds.

And, as Nova tossed her blade fowards again, not daring to leash her anger, Byron's blade shattered like the thinnest of ice.

Nova, herself, was thrown back as the obsidian shards cut the air. Byron recovered quicker, kicking into the Gastrodon's shield and sending her off-balance. Then, the short remnant of his sword whistled past Nova's throat and scraped her breastplate, splitting the leather wide.

Owl shrieked, and Nova felt the footsteps behind her – strong and heavy. She felt the air rush around her as Machamp's sword came to meet her, and she gasped, twisting desperately and jumping aside.

Then, her Gastrodon released a beam of water – one that splattered along the Machamp's chest. The fighting-type hissed, rolling out of reach, blinking hard as the water fell into its eyes. With a ferocious cry, Owl was grabbing onto the shield with her mouth again, pummelling into the fighting-type, forcing it back towards the platform's edge. But the Machamp still had _four _swords, and Nova just knew that Owl's grip on that shield was wavering, was weakening.

So, despite her anger, she turned away from Byron and towards the Machamp.

She lunged, feinting high and striking low, the crowd bellowing as she opened up a cut along Machamp's thigh. Its blood sprayed onto the sand, obsidian splinters flying as Nova parried one of the Machamp's blades into the dirt and stomped it down with her boot. The Machamp swung its blade and Nova rolled aside, Gastrodon and the shield already in front of her, the sword slamming and shattering against the metal.

That left the Machamp with two blades.

Nova arched her brow.

It seemed that Byron _did _like to play it fair – to use swords that were so quick to shatter and snap. So that it wouldn't be impossible.

And so, with a nod towards her Gastrodon, Nova struck.

Owl was on the defensive, bashing away with her shield where she could, only dropping it once to shoot another beam of mud towards Byron before he could join the parry. Nova, though, was moving like smoke – changing patterns, confusing the Machamp. Instead of attacking then ducking, she waited; when Owl caught the Machamp's strike on the shield, Nova drove her sword into its blade and – with her strength, with her anger, with every ounce of her will – she snapped it in half.

The Machamp struck with its last blade and the broken half of the other, blows whistling towards Nova's belly and throat. She ducked, with Owl blocking the strike with the shield, and then Nova jumped out and parried – breaking the final blade off at the hilt.

Then, with a furious cry, Gastrodon charged, striking the Machamp in the belly with the shield. When it stumbled back, Owl dropped the shield, sent a beam of mud into its chest, and sent the fighting-type flying off the platform.

Working like a true team. Working like they were _born _for it.

Still, it didn't stop Owl from peering over the edge, to check on the Machamp. Then, to Nova's absolute shock, the Gastrodon summoned _water_.

It wasn't like anything she had done before. Instead of water spitting from her mouth, water was rising from the waters around the ground, rising and rising until it was a shallow pool for the Steelix to hiss in. Certainly not high enough to reach their platform – not even halfway.

But high enough so that the Machamp would land in something soft. Something safe.

Nova didn't scold the Gastrodon. She just smiled and turned towards Byron, who was wiping the mud from his eyes.

"I fight him alone," she told Owl.

And though the Gastrodon's eyes dimmed, she only bowed her head and nodded.

Byron had brought out another sword from his belt, his blade whistling through the air as Nova reached him. She rolled aside in the last second, crying out as her father's sword struck the sand beside her, the crowd gasping as his boot collided with her ribs. Spit sprayed from Nova's lips, her chest felt like it was on _fire_, and—

A shield struck Byron, sweat dribbling down his temple as he was thrown back. Nova dragged herself to her feet with a pained gasp, snatching up her blade, watching as Gastrodon shrieked and slammed hard into Byron again with the shield.

But Owl was too slow – her grip too soft. Byron knocked the shield aside with a single kick, and Nova felt her ears ring as he raised his blade, ready to strike down and down and down, right into Gastrodon's skull—

Nova wasn't sure what possessed her in that moment.

She just remembered leaping across the distance with a howl and crashing her own sword into Byron's. She and her father fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs, her sword skidding across the dirt.

Still, her anger fuelled her on. Her desire. Her desperate and foolish attempt of vengeance.

She sat atop her father, fingers hooked as she tore off his helm, pounding her knuckles into his face again and again.

"Bastard!" she hissed at him. "Do you know who I am? Do you _know _who I fucking am?"

Byron grunted, his sword flashing – so quick that Nova had missed it. Luckily, Owl hadn't; the Gastrodon immediately spat a moutful of water, splattering it over Nova's side, sending the gladiator falling backwards and rolling onto the sand. And though her bones rattled from the pain, she knew that it was nothing – _nothing _– compared to what would have happened if Byron's sword had touched her.

But there was blood in Nova's eyes, a cut on her head, inches away from the platform's edge. And she was staggering onto her feet, the fire in her ribs burning white as she watched Byron kick her Gastrodon in the chest.

Owl lay there, breathing but tired, wheezing but alive. But Byron—

The legionary charged, a sword in his hand, his blade cutting the air, whistling and whirling and singing as it moved for the Gastrodon—

And though Owl managed to dodge it by rolling to the side, shit, shit, _shit_, she was no longer on the platform.

She was tumbling over the edge.

Nova screamed. At Owl, at her father, at herself.

If Owl fell over the edge, into the shallow water where the Steelix awaited, the Gastrodon would be dead. And Nova's stupid game of revenge, of finding her father and showing him what he deserved—

Owl didn't deserve to die for that.

And though it was foolish, though it was idiotic, though she could have ignored the Gastrodon and found her blade instead to stab Byron, Nova staggered to her feet.

Love came first. Then came revenge.

So, she hurled herself across the platform, ducking past Byron as she seized hold of the Gastrodon's body, trying to arrest their fall. Owl cried out as she finally went over, her gladiator hugging her as they both were dragged over the edge.

Nova screamed as she gripped onto the edge, blood and sweat making it near impossible to hold onto the stone. And yet, she held on; one arm around the sandy platform, and the other holding Owl tightly around her body.

The crowd cheered in amazement, even as Nova's bloody face twisted in agony. Her ribs were pressed against the side of the platform, the Steelix beneath her churning and hissing as their faces poked out of the muddy water. The Machamp was already there, riding atop a Steelix, waiting for them to fall. Ready for the kill.

Nova couldn't let them fall. In water, maybe Owl could escape and fight, but it would drown the gladiator in the process.

And besides, there was _Byron_—

"Hold on," Nova whispered to Owl.

The Gastrodon gasped in agony. She glanced down to the shifting waters beneath, up to Nova, shaking her head.

But Nova only hissed.

"I am not letting you go. We are climbing up."

Once again, the Gastrodon shook her head. Openings its mouth to say something.

Nova listened, but then scowled again.

"You are not fucking fat. We are taking down Byron _together_."

But she was close to too late.

Byron was stalking towards them, the light gleaming on his sword. Nova winced, trying to angle herself so that Owl could crawl up her body and onto the platform. Ribs screaming, face throbbing, teeth gritted in pain, knowing that death was seconds away as the audience howled, "Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Her father's shadow fell over hers. His sword hovered just above her hand.

"Surrender," he told her. "Surrender, and you live."

Nova could see the confusion in his eyes, even as he said it. No doubt, he was wondering about what she had meant when she had pounded his face with her fists. No doubt, he was wondering _how _her sword had the strength to break the swords that his very own knights had used.

No doubt, he was wondering why Duke Rowan had sponsored _her _of all people.

The crowd's cries became a chant, a rhythm, pulsing with every beat of her heart.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

"I don't want to kill you," Byron admitted. "I don't like to kill. Please, just surrender."

Nova's pride stung. She didn't want to surrender. Not to him, of all people.

But Owl was with her. She couldn't let the Gastrodon die for her.

Before she could utter a word, though, Owl hissed and spat the smallest ounce of mud at the legionary. An answer of her own.

_No. _

And Byron, wiping the mud from his mouth, sliced his sword down towards Nova's hand.

The strangest thing happened, then.

Byron's shadows came alive. The darkness tangled up, blackness swirling up his legs, curling higher and higher—

"Darkrai?" Nova breathed out.

Byron stumbled back, hissing through his confusion, falling onto his back. Owl managed to drag herself up and over Nova's shoulder, slithering up her arm and onto the platform. Then, with the weight no longer dragging down on her, Nova pulled herself over the edge, face twisted, heart racing, her voice a rasp.

"Darkrai?"

"…_you said you didn't want to see or hear me until the second you were about to die…" _

"Darkrai, you…"

"…_so here i am…"_

Owl squealed with joy as the shadows formed Darkrai's shape. Even Nova was sobbing, reaching out to touch him.

There was silence in the audience. Silence as they watched the legend of nightmares show himself to them all. Silence as he held his arms out for the gladiator and Gastrodon, embracing them, no longer in complete shadow form – but in his real, true form, where Nova could feel him, could touch him.

And the silence continued as Byron stepped up and slashed Darkrai across the back.

Black blood sprayed – blood that Nova didn't realise _could _spray from the legend of nightmares.

Before her, the Darkrai collapsed and crumpled in her arms. Eye wide with shock. Choking on his blood.

Nova felt as if she had been kicked in the guts.

_No, no, no—_

The Darkrai didn't move in her arms. Byron shook his head grimly, his sword slick with black blood.

"You were permitted one Pokémon," he told her. "And I don't like cheaters."

"Oh, rich coming from you, you fucking-"

She wished she could finish. But she couldn't – not as the Darkrai took a wheezing breath in her arms, not as the tears wouldn't stop spilling from her eyes.

She had asked the Darkrai to never show up again. And when he did, he saved her arse.

And, in turn, got himself killed.

But then, Byron froze. Owl froze. The dust that billowed, the wind that howled, the audience that screamed – all of it froze.

There were only two sounds: Nova's soft breaths, and Darkrai's final breaths.

"Darkrai, _please_," she whispered.

Darkrai shook his head weakly, his single blue eye gazing up at her. Sarcastic as ever. Cold as ever. Loving as ever.

"…_he stopped time…" _

Nova didn't know what he meant at first. She thought he was going crazy – thought he was mumbling soft nothings as his life was snatched away, as his blood leaked down her hands.

Then, she realised that time _had _stopped. The silence that echoed around her – it truly was silence. The audience was still there, some with mouths hanging open and some with their hands cupped around their faces. But they were still. Frozen. Unmoving. Not even blinking or breathing.

Same with Byron, who was as still as stone. Same with Owl, whose tears were frozen just below her eyes. Nova tried to touch her Gastrodon, but her hand slipped straight through it – as if she was but a ghost.

"What is going on?"

"…_I FROZE TIME. AND YOU CANNOT TOUCH THOSE WHO ARE NOT FROZEN WITH YOU…" _

The voice came from above her. Below her. Beside her. Around her. Everywhere and nowhere, all at once. It wasn't Darkrai's voice – it was too loud, too demanding.

"…_his name is dialga…"_

"Dialga?" Nova repeated.

The Darkrai couldn't answer. For, in that second, he closed his eye. Choked on his final breath.

"…_NOVEMBER…"_

It was the voice again. Dialga's voice. Speaking down at her.

And, sure enough, when she looked up, she saw those red eyes. Those metallic, grey fins that looked too much like her sword. That metal breastplatesurrounding a single, bright diamond.

"Dialga…"

"…_GREETINGS. BUT WE DO NOT HAVE TIME…" _

Nova glanced down at Darkrai. She knew that's what the Dialga was referring to – the dying shadows in her hands.

"I don't know how to save him," she confessed, her own voice strangled. "Oh, Arceus, I _want _to, but…"

"…_THERE IS A WAY…" _

"How?"

The red eyes blinked slowly.

"…_GIVE HIM YOUR SHADOW…" _

"What?"

"…_HE'S LIVED WITH YOUR SHADOWS BEFORE. BUT NOW, YOU MUST LET HIM BECOME YOUR SHADOW. YOUR ONLY SHADOW…"_

"What does that _mean_?"

Dialga blinked again.

"…_ONLY TIME WILL TELL…" _

"Oh, bloody hell-"

"…_YES OR NO, NOVEMBER. WHAT WILL IT BE?..." _

Nova glanced down at Darkrai, at the Pokémon that had accompanied her since Solaceon. The Pokémon that had stolen away her fear, that had looked out for her, that had shown Barry the sky just for her.

It was an easy choice, really.

"Yes."

The Darkrai sighed away his final breath. Dissolved into the sands.

And slipped back into her shadow.

Except, unlike before, her shadow didn't become darker – like it always had when Darkrai lived inside it. It remained just as dark as usual, a slight shade of black against the sand.

Because she no longer had a shadow. Darkrai _was _her shadow.

"…_THANK YOU FOR SAVING MY FRIEND…"_

And, with another blink, Dialga was gone. Leaving behind a roaring crowd, a bleeding legionary, and a bewildered Gastrodon.

For, in one second, they had seen a Darkrai die in Nova's arms. Then, there was nothing there at all.

Byron frowned, his brows drawn.

"Lass, what sorcery-"

Nova twisted onto her feet, ignoring the legionary's words, and kicked him just below the knees.

There was no fear in her heart anymore. No hesitation.

With Darkrai there, whispering to her, thanking her, she just listened to the crown burn alight, howling their disbelief. She dropped low, punching her father in his groin, blood thrumming in her veins, her heart thundering in her chest. She screamed and swung her fist again – all her strength, all her fury, all her pain coming down with it.

Blood sprayed as her knuckles met Byron's face and sent him topping over.

"…_showing off, are we?..." _

Nova almost grinned. "Good to hear that you're still your usual self."

"…_good to see that you still look like a walking staravia's nest…" _

"You know, I think I preferred you when you were dying."

Owl, unlike anyone else, could hear the Darkrai whispering from Nova's shadow. And even though the Gastrodon had no bloody clue what was going on, she still smiled brightly as Nova winked.

Darkrai was alive. Owl was alive.

And now, vengeance.

Nova's hands were black and red as she stepped towards her father.

"Surrender, or die," she told him.

Part of her hoped he wouldn't surrender. Part of her hoped she would have the chance to slam her boot into his heart one more time.

But she felt Gastrodon breathing behind her, hope in her muffled breaths. She knew that, somewhere in the audience, Sir Riley and Duke Rowan were watching her – one of them who loved Byron like a father, and one who loved him like a son.

She had made a promise, anyways, to her Pokémon.

Never to kill anyone ever again unless she had to.

So, when Byron raised his hands in surrender and regarded her coolly, Nova smiled.

Panting, bleeding, she searched the sands for her blade. Then, dragging it free from the ground, she turned towards the dumbfounded audience, and raised it to the sky.

"I am November of Twinleaf," she said. "Child of Lady Vernia and Lord Byron. Granddaughter of Duke Rowan."

Silence rang across the sands. Hollow and still. No one in the crowd could believe their eyes, let alone speak.

This girl had taken down a Machamp and their beloved legionary with her Gastrodon. This girl had somehow summoned a Darkrai, seconds before making it disappear in her arms. This girl had come from Twinleaf.

And, all along, she was Lord Byron's son?

Finally, a blonde boy in the audience clapped his hands, his green eyes wide.

"November!" Barry called out. "_November_!"

Sir Riley looked at the blind boy beside him, at the legionaries that were glaring at him. Then, he, too, clapped his hands.

"November!"

The word began repeating, like an echo, more and more folk taking up the call. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands, all chanting in time like a vow, like a prayer.

"November! November! November!"

Nova limped around the platform, sword held high, the audience stamping their feet in time with their chant, faster and faster, the name and thunder of their feet blurring.

"November! November! November!"

And she laughed.

"What is my name?"

"November!"

"_What is my fucking name?" _

"_November! November! November!" _

She closed her eyes, drinking it in, letting it soak into her skin.

Vengeance. Complete.

Except, she felt a hand clamp down over her shoulder. And, when she turned, she found her father staring at her, tears in his eyes. Purple hair ruffled. Blood and mud slipping down his face. Hands shaking.

"You're Vernia's child? You're _alive_?"

Nova didn't answer. She just dropped her sword, ripped off her helm, and let her long black hair fall down to her waist.

And, to her horror, Byron started to cry.

"I have a daughter…" he whispered to himself. "I have a _daughter_."

Then, he was holding her hand, raising it high in the air.

"I have a daughter!" he yelled out to the audience. "I have a _daughter_!"

Legionary Fantina and Prince Volkner looked _horrified_. Maylene and Wake were cheering the loudest, forcing Candice to roll her eyes. Then, there was her half-brother, Roark, who was giving her a brief wink.

People were howling her name, pounding their feet against the stone.

"I have a _daughter_!" Byron was yelling out. "_And what is her name?" _

"_November_!"

Nova felt her heart sink as Byron turned to her, as he insisted on throwing his arms around her and hugging her.

"Oh, Arceus," he whispered into her ear. "You… You're _alive_. And Lady Vernia? Is she…?"

Nova didn't wrap her arms around him. She just flinched as she said, "Aye. She's alive."

"Oh, lass, I…I heard rumours but…"

He wiped tears from his eyes – real, hot tears.

"You must join me and the legionaries for supper," he told her. "You must. I must show you your home, and we can get chambers ready for you and Vernia and… oh, Arceus, she's _alive. _And I have a _daughter_. It was for the best, then, that the Lord of Nightmares wouldn't let me touch you."

A bit of laughter. A bit more crying. And Nova could only watch as the man gazed at her adoringly, as if he truly _did _care about her.

Byron then turned away, snapping something to his knights – something about getting healers to come and tend to Nova and Owl's wounds, something about searching around for the Darkrai that had been there seconds ago, something about asking his butlers to prepare a feast for his daughter.

Nova just watched him, silent. The excitement in her belly melted into confusion.

Owl slithered over to her, leaning her head onto Nova's arm as they listened to the gladiator's shadow speak.

"…_well. that went splendidly…" _

"It sure did."

"…_are you certain you are not being sarcastic?..." _

"Can you shut up for a second while I try to think?"

Darkrai chuckled at that. _"…ah. probably not…"_

Owl grinned at that, but Nova just pinched the bridge of her nose.

That was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to kick his arse. Tell everyone who she really was. Make him hate her for being alive.

She hadn't expected him to bloody _want _her to be alive.

"…_someone who doesn't hate you. shocking…" _

"Shut up."

Gastrodon chuckled again.

"Both of you."

Then, closing her eyes, she sighed.

She would join him for supper. See what _that _was about. Steal his food.

After all, her Pokémon deserved a good feast.

Nova knelt down and patted Owl fondly on the head.

"Thank you, you know," she whispered. "For saving me all the time."

"…_how pathetically cute…" _

"You too, Darkrai. Thank you."

Darkrai went quiet for a second, her shadow rippling.

"…_and thank you for giving me your shadow…" _

"What else was I supposed to give you? A bloody candle? An island to bury yer dead body?"

"…_well, my own island would certainly be nice…"_

"You're insufferable."

"…_you missed me…"_

"Aye."

She glanced over at Sir Riley and Barry, who were both hurtling down the steps to come join her. Her heart swelling as the knight, in particular, grinned fondly over at her.

"I missed a lot."

* * *

**Hehe. Thoughts? **


	44. Chapter XLII

**Chapter XLII**

Nova hated to admit it, but she was getting far too used to Sir Riley's bedroom.

She was back on the bed, her hair still damp from her bath, bandages wrapped around her head and arm and leg. There had been cuts she hadn't even known about, bruises that she hadn't felt until Joy had slathered some herbal paste over it.

It had already been a day since her battle with her father, and yet, her head still reeled.

Byron wanted her in his mansion at night. Byron wanted to show her off to all the other legionaries, to all his knights and noble friends.

Byron had invited her mother, Lady Vernia, as well.

It was all too much for Nova to process. So, instead of trying to talk it out with her father, she left her Pokémon with Barry and Joy, dragged herself into Sir Riley's home – into his bedroom – peeled off her tunic and laid on his bed.

Ready for her next tattoo.

"What shall it be today, Nova?" Riley asked her, clanking around the needles and the pot of ink.

"Another gracidea petal on me back."

Riley froze, his eyes sharp as he turned towards her. "Did someone close to you…"

"Die?" she finished. "Aye. Someone very dear to me."

"Nova, I'm sorry." He moved closer, a soft hand on her cheek as he crouched down to face her. "Who was it?"

"My dignity. It died the second I started talking to you again."

He laughed, shoving her face gently away. "You're a cruel one, November."

And after returning his grin for a second, the gladiator sighed and closed her eyes.

"Actually, there _is _someone," she confessed. "Darkrai. He died for me yesterday."

"Darkrai?"

"…_i'm not dead dead, you know…" _

Nova rolled her eyes at her rippling shadow. "Which is unfortunate, really."

"…_is this how you thank everyone who saves you?..."_

Riley was frowning as he eyed Nova. "Nova, what are you-"

Nova cut him off with a raise of her hand.

"Darkrai," she said suddenly. "Are you making it look like I'm talking to myself again by not letting Riley hear you?"

"…_well, that's a possibility…" _

"Can you stop that?"

"…_well, that's also a possibility…" _

Finally, with a reluctant sigh, the Darkrai swept out of her shadows. It was as he had always done – moving in and out of her shadow with ease, forming the figure with his plume of smoke, shining blue eye, and ring of red around his shoulders.

Except, this time, as he formed the shape of Darkrai, Nova's shadow completely disappeared. She was completely shadowless.

"Oh," was all Riley said, his gaze flickering from the Darkrai to Nova to the spot where her shadow had met his only seconds ago.

"He gave me nightmares in Solaceon and has sniffed my arse ever since," Nova explained.

"…_it's very smelly, if you were wondering…" _

Riley was at a loss for words. So, instead, he just brought the needle and pot of ink closer to the bed.

"Let's just… get started on your tattoo."

It hurt a lot less than it had when Bebe died, when she had had Rowan's name inked onto her back. And yet, the pain in her heart was just as bad as it had been back then – it still made her throat clench and unclench as she thought of everything the legend of nightmares had done for her, everything that Dialga had told her, all the visions, all the lies, all the love that surrounded her-

Even with the pain piercing through her back, Nova reached out with her hand and touched Riley on his elbow.

"Riley?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry if I hurt you recently."

Riley paused with his inking, shaking his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Nova. Nothing at all."

"I've killed people."

"And I haven't?"

He didn't say anything more as he finished his work, reaching for the cool towels to stretch over her back. Then, with his cold fingers on hers, he crouched before her again.

"I don't like it, either," he told her. "But the world we live in… We don't have a choice. We either kill, or we are killed."

Nova squeezed his fingers. "Perhaps someone will come along and change that some day?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps even the new king?"

He scoffed at that. "Oh, he won't be king."

"Why not?"

Riley hesitated for a second. Then, he gave her a warm smile – one of those ones that made her want to melt, that made her remember why it had been so bloody _difficult _to stay angry at him.

"Once Cynthia comes back, I'm calling off my engagement," he said. "I'm done with this."

Nova tried to sit up, wincing as the pain sliced through her back. "But if Cynthia is dead, you _will _be king."

"Not if I run away."

She snorted at that. "Maybe it's a tradition for all Sinnoh rulers. You wear the crown, then you run away."

"…_seems like an awful waste of crowns, if you ask me…" _

"No one did," both Riley and Nova shot back.

Then, as they exchanged grins, Riley reached out for the weapons bucket. Nova was waiting for him to slide out her sword and perhaps toss the rusted water onto her, but instead, he raised her blade and gently sliced into the back of his hand – just below the knuckle.

"Here is my blood oath," he said softly, though she could see the flicker of pain in his eyes as his blood spilled onto his boots. "If Cynthia comes back, I'm calling off my engagement with her."

Nova watched the knight, felt her heart flutter as he pressed his lips to her bandaged forehead.

Oh, Arceus, she didn't know what she had done to deserve him. Maybe he lied, maybe he was engaged, but still – a blood oath? For a wench from Twinleaf?

She knew she should have told him, then and there, that she wanted him. That she loved him.

Instead, though, she rolled her eyes and buried her head into the pillow, hoping he didn't see the flush of her cheeks.

"You're so ridiculously dramatic," she mumbled into the pillow.

He nudged her. "Oh, please, and you're not? Was it not you who bloody burnt down Fantina's entire ballroom?"

With a short laugh, Nova snuck a glance at him. He was smiling down at her, his gaze so raw – so full of hope – that she couldn't help but forget about Byron, about her hurting back, about all the blood and death she had seen.

"Is it bad that I want us to have a happily ever after?" she whispered. "Is it selfish of me to want that?"

"No."

"No?"

"I don't think a happily ever after is selfish," he told her. "I think it's noble. To want to share happiness even after coming straight from hell…"

He pressed his forehead against hers – not inching any closer, tempting as it was.

"I think it's the most courageous thing two people could ever reach for."

"…_it was so much more entertaining when you weren't talking, if you ask me…" _

"No one did!"

* * *

Nova knew she should have been preparing for Lord Byron's big, fancy gala.

Instead, though, she dragged Owl the Gastrodon and Rhys the Luxray to the pier. Watched them as they sparred.

Rhys had long since learnt that electricity did nothing to Owl. Instead, he danced around her – dancing the same way he had with Nova in the ship, skirting in and out of danger, leaping and lunging over beams of mud and water.

Still as insufferable as ever, that Luxray. Still as cocky, snorting as his nails dug into the Gastrodon's face and left a slight scratch.

But Owl, too, was stronger. Tougher. And, though she patiently let the Luxray dodge every blast of hers, though she didn't even flinch when he scratched her, she was planning. Plotting. Watching Nova wink at her and gesture at the ocean.

Then, when Rhys was tired enough, Owl really began to fight.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the wind, the water, the salt. And slowly, the water from the pier began to rise – began shift and twist into a large tidal wave, its shadow big enough to wipe away the Luxray with one flick.

"Control it, Owl," Nova warned. "Control."

Then, the wave slid back into the ocean, rocking the few ships that lay there.

Perfectly timed. Perfectly controlled.

Rhys stared with wide eyes. For once, he didn't even feel _jealous _as he eyed the blue-green Gastrodon. He just remembered back when she was a Shellos, back when he was a Luxio and scared the hell out of her.

Then, he reached out and licked the cut on her face.

Nova smiled as she moved over to them, reaching out to hold them both. Knowing very well that it was not Owl the Gastrodon who had learnt something, but Rhys the Luxray, instead.

* * *

"You've been causing a whole load of trouble, haven't you?"

Nova froze at the familiar voice.

The sun was already sinking into the horizon, leaking amber all over the ocean. Townsfolk, legionaries, and knights alike were all getting ready for Byron's spontaneous gala – hastily scrambling to find corsets and gowns, bangles and shoes.

Nova thought she, Owl, and Rhys had been the only ones still by the pier; the gladiator had spent all day ducking and weaving away from her Luxray's attacks, and jumping and sliding around Gastrodon's beams. If she had expected an audience at all, she hadn't expected it to be the old crone from Celestic.

"Bertha?" she called out, wiping sweat from her eyes.

The old crone still had her face veiled by her cloak, and she was regarding the three warily as she added, "Setting Fantina's ballroom on fire, nearly killing your father in front of half of Sinnoh, the spectacle with Darkrai…"

"…_please. i don't do spectacles…" _

Rhys and Owl moved to Nova's side as she closed in on the crone.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Bertha shrugged. "News has been spreading about you and that Darkrai. If I were you, I'd be careful, nay?"

"Careful?"

"People don't like it when humans associate with legendries. And you, my dear, have gotten the worst legendry of the bunch."

"…_how awfully kind of you to say…" _

Bertha snickered, and even Nova rolled her eyes.

"People are calling you Daughter of Nightmares," Bertha suddenly said. "Everything that happens near you – whether it be your doing or not – will be blamed on you."

"At this rate, I'd be surprised if it _wasn't _my doing."

Once again, they exchanged that easy grin. That understanding.

Then, with a wave of her hand, the old crone turned on her heel and started walking away from the pier, over the cobblestones, and back towards the waters that led to Jubilife.

"Enjoy your night, Daughter of Nightmares," she called out of her shoulder.

Darkrai hissed at that.

"…_daughter of nightmares? really? i'm a few centuries too young for fatherhood, don't you think?..." _

But Nova frowned, cupping her hands around her mouth as she called out, "Wait!"

Bertha froze, a hand propped on her hip. "Aye?"

"You gave me that ring because you knew it would make Riley tell me the truth, didn't you?"

"Aye."

Nova ducked her head, hiding the pinch of shame in her eyes. "I'm sorry. If I had known he was engaged to yer granddaughter…"

"Don't go soft on me now, lass," Bertha said, snorting. "What happened to _fuck Queen Cynthia_?"

"Too many people to fuck."

"…_that is rather horrid, november…" _

Rhys and Owl exchanged grins at that, but Nova kept her gaze trained on the old crone's back.

"Go, lass," Bertha said softly. "Go and change yer fate."

Then, the gladiator and her two Pokémon were off, darting back to the Canalave inns, yelling as they raced. Swearing as Rhys tripped his gladiator, as the slug moaned about how unfair it was to be so behind. The crone chuckled at them, shaking her head.

"The Darkrai sacrificed himself to save her."

A voice chimed beside her, soft and round, bright and sweet. _"…So he did…" _

"Would you do that for me, Cresselia?"

"…_I would never be so foolish to let you be in such a situation…" _

The crone smiled. "Either way, she is Byron's daughter. That means she's not the one we are looking for, after all."

"…_I think we should keep following her, though…" _

"Aye? Why?"

"…_She's stuck with Darkrai. Isn't that reason enough?..."_

* * *

"You are _not _going like that."

"Why the hell not?"

Joy folded her arms and scowled. "Everyone will be there, Nova. Legionaries, gladiators – everyone has been invited. Byron wants to show his daughter off to _everyone_. And that daughter is _you_."

"So?"

"You can't go with blood all over your face, sweat all over your armpits, _and _dressed in Sir Riley's clothes!"

Nova only shrugged, turning to the boy who was leaning back on the bed. "Barry, what do you think?"

"I think ya look great, Nova."

With a grin, the gladiator whirled around to stick her tongue at Joy. "See?"

"Barry!" Joy snapped. "Don't encourage her!"

They were stuck in Barry's chambers in the Canalave inns, Joy already dressed in an orange gown, and Barry in the best clothes Nova could find for him in Sir Riley's cupboards. Meanwhile, Nova was wearing _exactly _what her best friend was wearing – except it was still drenched in sweat and mud from her fighting with Rhys and Owl, and she had undone her bandages to reveal the cuts running across her head.

All the Pokémon, too, were trying on clothes, even though they weren't going to the gala. That was Nova's way of messing around and avoiding Joy's glare; so far, she had wrapped Leila is a dress made out of the curtains, Rhys and Tric were wearing capes (also torn from the curtains), Owl had a little handkerchief (again, curtains), and Bailey had a little scarf (not curtains; Nova's leftover bandages).

Barry pressed his head back against the wall, sighing.

"So," he said wistfully. "Granddaughter of the old king. That's crazy. Instead of growing up in a castle, though, you had ta' grow up with me."

"Growing up with you was so much more fun than a castle, Barry," Nova retorted.

"Have you ever been in a castle?"

"No."

"Then you don't really know, do ya?"

He was grinning, but Nova caught him wringing around that pink scarf in his hand. Like he was nervous.

So, she sat beside him on the bed and touched his face.

"Barry, is Joy beautiful?"

With a frown, he placed his hand over hers. "Of course she is."

"Have you seen her?"

"No, but-"

Nova stood on her feet, then, bowing. "Ladies and gentlemen, my point is clear."

"I change my mind. Joy is very ugly. There. I win."

From the corner of the room, Joy scowled. "Who are you calling ugly, Barry? Say that again and I'll cut your hair so that it looks like a bird's nest."

"That won't do a thing," Nova pointed out. "Barry once gave _himself _a haircut years ago. I wouldn't stop laughing, and he didn't even give a shit."

Joy arched a brow. "Really?"

"I can't see it," Barry said, shrugging. "So it don't be bothering me."

For a second, Nova exchanged a grin with Leila as they saw Joy stare at the blind boy – wonder in the healer's eyes, her lips parted in amazement, a soft flush creeping onto her cheeks.

Then, the gladiator cleared her throat.

"Anyways, let's go," Nova said, brushing her hands against her britches.

Joy pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're _actually _going in that? Even though Byron wants to show you off to all of Sinnoh?"

"That man pushed me mother down the bloody stairs. To hell with him if I'm going to dress up nice just so he can show me off. Fuck Lord Byron."

Barry nodded at that. "Aye, fuck Lord Byron. _I _would have married Vernia myself if Nova wouldn't keep stopping me-"

"She's me fucking mother!"

Joy laughed at them, but then reached out for Nova's hand. "Nova, could you at _least _do the bandages again-"

"I'm fine." Then, with a grin, Nova called out to Barry, "Besides, Barry thinks I look great. Don't ya?"

"I think you look as great as always, Nova," Barry called back.

Joy only sighed.

"I hate both of you."

* * *

Everyone noticed how underdressed Nova was. Everyone noticed that, despite the rules, all five of her Pokémon had come sauntering in behind her, finding a table and snatching food away from the men and women serving the food.

And, despite that, when Nova found Sir Riley across the room, his face lit up. As if he didn't even _see _what a filthy mess she was.

She didn't get to speak to him, though. She didn't even get to find a table with Joy and Barry. For, the second she stepped into the mansion, Byron was there, linking his arm with hers and dragging her away.

He showed her the swords that hung crossed along the walls, surrounded by tapestries of gold and green. He showed her the vases brimming with lavender, the golden chandeliers staring down at them – a realm of crystal and marble, full of people with fur draped over their shoulders and jewels studded onto their gold silk.

A realm that she may have grown up in, if the bastard hadn't pushed her mother down the bloody stairs.

If Byron could feel the hate simmering in her gut, he didn't mention it. He just whirled her around the room, pausing for all his friends, for all his people, beaming as he spoke. The same thing, over and over and over again.

"This is my daughter, November. She grew up in Twinleaf."

"Do you remember Vernia? The dancer? This is her daughter. And I'm the father."

"This gladiator is my daughter. Isn't she brilliant? Did you see her spar against me?"

"A toast to finding my daughter, November!"

By the end of it all, even though Byron kept urging her to speak, Nova just kept her gaze onto the floor and let him whisk her around.

She couldn't understand it. Why was he so _nice_? Why was he showing her around to everyone? Wasn't he supposed to be plotting her death?

Had he even been the one trying to kill her?

"So," Byron finally said softly to her, smiling as they moved away from the crowd and towards the balcony. "Tell me, how is your mother?"

Nova almost shrivelled up at the words. "She's fine."

"Is she well?"

"I said she's _fine_."

Icy. Cold. Ruthless.

Because this man pushed her mother down the stairs, did he not? Why would he care?

"And what about you?" Byron asked again, his face bathing in the silver moonlight. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Sir Riley."

"And what about the Darkrai? Where did you-"

"Solaceon."

He didn't even frown when she cut him off. He just nodded thoughtfully, saying, "Interesting. And, do tell, how did you meet my father—I mean, your grandfather? What was the story to him sponsoring you?"

This time, Nova just glared at him. Finally, he backed off.

"Sorry, lass," he said, shaking his head as he chuckled. "It's just… I want to know what I missed after all these years. I want you to know that I care for you."

"And I want you to know that I don't give a damn."

Nova felt that pang – that pang of guilt – in her chest as she watched him flinch back. As if her words really and truly hurt him.

"November," he whispered. "I'm sorry I haven't been there for you. I really am. All those years ago, I thought-"

"Forget it," Nova cut in, rolling her eyes, keeping her gaze trained on the moon and the moon alone. Then, she waved her hand back towards the mansion, towards the gowns and sequins and dresses that swept across the tables. "What's with this big gala?"

He flushed a little. "I thought you may never have seen one before. And, well, it may be the last time I get to host one."

"What?"

When she turned back to face him, he was smiling down at her. Warm. Kind. Even though Nova _knew _there was a snake beneath it all – she just _knew _it.

"November," he said slowly. "There's a reason your Aunt Fantina wanted you gone. Eighteen years ago, when I was told that Vernia had died, I didn't want to be a prince anymore. But I had no choice – not while my father was still the king. But when Cynthia took his throne years later, I told her straight away. I told her about the affair, about how Vernia had died."

She nodded. "Aye?"

"Aye. Cynthia had already let Fantina and Volkner's affair slide, and she was happy to let mine go, too. But I asked her to dethrone me. I asked her to take away my position in the castle, even if it meant the same for my son and little sister. She agreed, and here I am. A legionary instead of a duke."

"As if being a legionary is the same as being a nobody."

He grunted in agreement. "Aye. But now that all of Sinnoh knows about the affair, after our little stunt after our spar, Cynthia will have no choice but to take away our legionary status as well. She's a good woman – whatever she does to me, she'll do to Fantina. And probably to Roark, too."

It took Nova a while to process his words, to truly understand.

Now that all of Sinnoh knew about his affair with her mother, now that there was no hiding it when he so openly admitted it…

"You're no longer a legionary," she said. "Same with Roark and Fantina."

He nodded. "Aye. Once Cynthia returns, we will no longer be legionaries."

"Well. That's shit for you."

"No, it's not," he mused. "Because now I can truly spend time with my children."

There it was again. That kindness. That warmth.

In all truth, it made Nova sick.

Because, all her life, she knew he was bad. She _wanted _him to be bad. The man who ruined her mother's life, who ruined her life, who hadn't uttered a word to either of them since the accident—

He was bad. That's just how it was.

"I have a gift for you," Byron said suddenly. He pulled out a Pokéball, rolling it around in his palms.

"For me?"

And, out from the Pokéball came a little blue thing, with sharp teeth sticking out of her mouth and a belly that gleamed red in the dim light.

"It's a Gible," her father said. "I gave Roark his first Pokémon, so it only felt right to give you one, too."

At first, Nova was going to refuse it. But then, she watched as the Gible rolled her eyes and slapped away Byron's hand when he tried to touch her scaly skin.

Oh, she liked the Gible. She liked the Gible a _lot_.

"I'll name you Tatty," Nova said, hands held out.

And though the Gible went into her arms, the little thing scowled.

"…_she hates that name…" _

Nova wanted to stomp into her shadow. Instead, though, she glanced back down at the Gible.

"Tiana?"

The Gible hissed again.

"…_she hates that name, too…" _

"I don't think I need the bloody translation."

Byron arched his brow. "November, who are you talking to?"

But she ignored him. She just raised the Gible in the air and frowned.

"Tatiana, then."

Another scowl. Another hiss.

"…_she hates this one, as well…" _

"I don't give a damn," the gladiator snapped. "Yer name is Tatiana, little shit."

For a second, the Gible looked as if she wanted to eat her face off. Then, with a brief nod, she sank back into Nova's arms and sighed – drifting off into a light sleep.

"…_she hates it a little less, now…"_

It was strange having another baby Pokémon in her arms – one that snored and kicked in her sleep. But, before Nova could speak to Byron and tell him that she was, in fact, talking to her own shadow, there was a knock on the balcony window.

"Nova? Byron?" Sir Riley called out. "Lady Vernia arrives."

Both the father and the daughter froze, their eyes trained on the lady sitting in the small wagon. Once again, Captain Snuggles was there – Riley's Lucario – exchanging a knowing glance with his knight as Nova rushed towards her mother, squeezing both the Gible and the dancer in a hug.

Only then did it occur to Nova that, all along, Riley had probably asked Lucario to stay with Vernia. To look after her while the gladiator couldn't.

As she hugged her mother, breathing in the scent of sand and dust and some minty perfume, Nova blew a kiss towards the knight. Saw his Lucario catch it instead.

"Lady Vernia…" Byron was saying, choking on his own breath. "You… You look beautiful."

Nova slackened her grip around her mother, hauled Tatiana the Gible back into her arms, and gave her parents some space.

She didn't know what to expect. Did Vernia hate Byron, too? Or did she still love him?

Part of her wanted to stand in front of her mother like a protective shield. Part of her wanted to shut Byron up and send him hurtling off the balcony.

But Riley reached over and squeezed her hand. So, she leaned against his shoulder and watched.

"How have you been?" Byron asked quietly. "Or… should I not ask?"

Lady Vernia straightened her back, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "You may ask."

A light grin. Another flush of red cheeks. "How are you, then, Vernia?"

"I'm very well, thank you, Byron. Better than I have ever been." Formal. Calm.

And yet, cold.

"I can't believe it," Byron breathed out. "I can't believe you're…"

"Alive?" Vernia finished. She beckoned him over, adding, "Come here."

Nova found herself holding her breath, found herself gripping tightly onto Riley as Byron strolled over to her mother.

She didn't want him near her. She didn't want him to hurt her again. She didn't want—

Then, she found her jaw dropping as Lady Vernia slapped Lord Byron square on the face.

"That's for nearly killing our child in your damned legionary battle," Vernia said. Formal. Calm.

And, once again, cold as ice.

"Let's go, Captain Snuggles," Vernia said to the Lucario. "Nova?"

Nova didn't have to be asked twice. She instantly stepped beside the wagon, ignoring her Gible's snores as she leaned down and whispered to her mother.

"How did that feel?" she asked.

Vernia waited until they were inside the mansion, away from Byron. Then, with a deep breath – with a face that was so pale that Nova wondered if Vernia had even _thought _about her actions – her mother cracked a grin.

"That felt fucking _fantastic_," she said.

Nova laughed at that, leaning down to plant a brief kiss on her mother's brow. "I love you, you know?"

But Vernia only smiled, pressing a slender hand to the Gible's face, then to her daughter's face.

"You really _have _been dancing with those winds, haven't you?"

"How can you tell?"

Vernia snorted. "You no longer walk like you have a stick shoved up your arse."

"Oh, piss _off_."

With a short laugh, Vernia's gaze ran over her daughter. The scars. The bruises. The gleam in her eyes.

"I mean it, Nova," she finally said. "For the first time, you look… _happy_."

For a moment, Nova didn't answer. She just glanced over her shoulder, where Barry and Joy were bickering away – him telling her stories about Twinleaf, and her staring on with amazement. Then, she found Legionary Wake and Maylene, who were arguing about whose crystal looked better while Roark and Candice laughed. She found Sir Riley, who was gazing at her with more warmth in his eyes than she had ever felt in her heart.

And she found her five Pokémon. Rhys and Tric, who were fighting over a potato. Leila, who had snatched up the potato and was trying to sneak it into Owl's mouth. Bailey, who squawked about it, and ended up getting in trouble from all of them. Tatiana the Gible, snuggled in her arms.

Then, turning back to her mother, she smiled.

"I have a lot to be happy about."

* * *

**Introducing Tatiana the Gible! In the game, I did manage to get her from Wayward. **

**My strategy had been to grab every single Pokémon possible from every cave, just so that I could guarantee myself a Gible as my first encounter. It worked like a charm, and that is why Nova "caught" so many Pokémon! **


	45. Chapter XLIII

**Chapter XLIII**

Organising seating for dinner turned out to be a lot more complicated than anyone expected.

Lord Byron was insistent on Nova sitting on the table with the legionaries. But, when he asked the other legionaries, they were torn. Wake and Maylene practically yanked Nova onto a chair, but Volkner and Fantina made an absolute fit about it, while Candice just shrugged. When they all turned to Roark to make the final decision, he took one glance at his Aunt Fantina and his father, who were both glaring at each other. Then, he sunk into his chair and refused to give an answer.

As always, Sir Riley came to the rescue. With a roll of his eyes, he held a chair out for Nova – the chair right beside her half-brother – and that was that.

"So," Nova said to Roark, watching as all the other legionaries found their seats around the table. "You're my half-brother. You knew in Oreburgh, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?"

Roark gave her a small smile. "I wanted to be sure. Then, when I checked with Aunt Fantina…"

"Did she swear you to silence by threatening to bed you?"

Her half-brother choked on his ale, and Nova laughed as it all went spitting out of his nose and onto the table.

"Arceus, November, you really _are _foul," he finally said, wiping at his face. Then, with a brief wink, he gestured over to their aunt. "Don't worry, though. Aunt Fantina is already a bit smitten."

To Nova's surprise, Fantina had her back turned away from Volkner. Instead, her aunt was slithering her hands around Riley's arm, tilting her head back and laughing at everything the Knight on High had to say. Nova caught Riley mouthing the word _help_ to her, and she quickly turned away, grinning.

"You're not worried about our aunt stealing your lad?" Roark mused.

"He's not mine. He's engaged to…" Nova trailed off as she glanced back at Fantina, who had shuffled even closer to the Knight on High, who was curling her arm around Riley's stiff shoulders.

She didn't even feel that pang of hurt, that pang of jealousy. Part of it was because she could see Riley trying not to scowl, and part of it was because of the cut that stretched across his palm. The blood oath he had made to her. The promise.

Nova glanced over her shoulder. The legionary table was on a raised platform – alone, and away from all the other tables that had been arranged in long rows. She could see Barry and Joy on one of those tables, speaking in low voices. Her Pokémon had taken over a table of their own, and while Nova had specifically asked Leila and Owl to look after Tatiana the Gible, it seems that Tatiana only had eyes for Rhys. Serving girls and boys were already making their way to the tables, plate by plate, glass by glass.

But Lady Vernia was nowhere to be seen.

And, now that Nova thought of it, she had lost sight of Lord Byron, too.

She immediately stood, her chair squealing back, and ignored Riley and Roark's questioning gazes. Instead, she strolled away from the tables, making sure to snatch Volkner's cup of ale away from his lips and raise it to her own, instead.

Volkner scowled. "You are a filthy little-"

"What's that?" Nova cut in. "I can't hear you. Is it true, Wake, that royal blood makes yer hearing worse?"

And though Volkner's face turned a shade of crimson, Wake only slapped the prince's back and hooted.

"I hear it also makes yer breath smellier, Nova," the pirate called out.

Nova shook her head, draining the glass. "Nay. I think that's only Volkner."

"You are both absolute b-"

Before Volkner could finish, Nova ducked away, her throat burning from both the thought of her missing mother, her disgusting father, and the sting of the ale itself.

She found her parents in minutes. They were away from the dining chambers, away from the people, and in the bare ballroom.

Nova almost cried out at the sight of it.

He was carrying Vernia in his arms, and she had her face pressed against his chest. They were twirling around the dance floor, murmuring soft words, the slight tinkling of laughter echoing around them as he carried her through the dance. There was no music – no music but the loud clatter of cutlery from outside, and yet, they moved to their own beat. Smiling. Laughing. Dancing.

"…_nova. you are only hurting yourself…" _

But Nova ignored her shadow. Because, then, Vernia raised her head towards Byron. Parted her lips. Touched his cheek.

Nova felt it, then. Felt the betrayal like a fire in her gut.

Because her mother was kissing the very man who had ruined their lives.

* * *

About four full cups of ale later, Nova found herself storming back to the legionary table.

She didn't know what to do. What to feel.

Seeing her mother smile like that was so nice – so _rare_. But the man she was with? After all eighteen years of pain and suffering? After she had even _slapped _him?

"Nova!" Maylene was singing out, kicking out at the bare seat across from her. "Come gossip with us!"

The gladiator didn't want to gossip with Maylene or Candice. She wanted to leave. She wanted more ale. She wanted—

One glance at Maylene's big, round eyes made Nova sigh and sink into the chair.

"Gossip again?" she asked. "What more is there to gossip about?"

Maylene gave her a wicked grin, nudging Candice.

"Well, there's Fantina and Riley…" the Snowpoint legionary started.

Maylene's eyes widened suddenly, and with a sly grin, she beckoned for both Candice and Nova to lean closer.

"Actually," Maylene started, "I _did _hear something from Roark. Did you know that, whenever Fantina sleeps with a young lad, she gives them one of her purple lace panties to keep? As like… a remembrance?"

Even Candice couldn't keep her face from breaking out into a grin while Nova choked.

"That's _foul_," the gladiator mumbled out. "Arceus, and is the underthing always purple?"

"Always."

"Do you think Sir Riley will be getting one tonight?" Candice asked. "I mean, Fantina can't seem to keep her hands off him."

"Perhaps not a purple one," Maylene answered. "But perhaps he'll be getting one that's… Say, Nova, what colour are your underthings?"

Both the legionaries laughed as Nova tried – and failed – to kick them under the table.

"What?" Maylene blurted out. "It's _true_! Everyone knows about it. And I think you two look good together."

Clouded with ale, with her stomach still buzzing from the sight of her parents together, Nova couldn't even come up with a response. She just turned to Candice and frowned.

"Say, didn't you once fancy Riley?" she asked.

Candice's brows shot up. "He told you about those two weeks?"

"Aye. I take he did not please you?"

"As if a man could ever please anybody."

All three girls laughed at that, raising their glasses and drinking to it.

"…_are you sure? crasher wake seems rather promising…" _

Nova snorted down at her shadow, whispering, "Oh, aye?"

"…_and don't get me started on the dashing man known as lord backlot…" _

She laughed at that, bewildering both Candice and Maylene, who couldn't hear the Darkrai. But, before they could ask, the serving boy had come to their table, placing plates before them.

"What's this?" Candice asked him. "How come we're eating stew, while everyone else is eating freaking flatbread?"

The server shrugged. "Legionaries get special food. To celebrate finding Byron's daughter."

Nova nearly scowled at that. Byron wasn't even at the table – Roark had gone out to get him. But, before she could protest, she felt a weight fall onto her lap.

It was the damned Gible. She had come running across the entire dining chambers upon the sight of Nova's food, mouth watering, teeth chattering with excitement.

But when Nova pushed the stew towards Tatiana, the Gible sniffed the food. Frowned. Shoved it away.

"Don't be like that, Tatiana," Nova said, scowling. "You either eat it, or let me bloody eat it."

Tatiana stuck her tongue out. Then, with a grin, she pushed the plate off the table.

Glass shattered, stew spilt, and Nova felt her eye twitch.

"That was my supper, you little _shit_."

Tatiana only gave her a little wink. Then, she ran off, hiding behind the safety of Bailey's wing before Nova could stand and murder the little thing.

"I'll ask for another for you," Candice said, raising her hand to call the serving boy. "Don't worry. And Snover will clean that up."

Sure enough, Candice's Snover – who was far more behaved than Tatiana – came along and started licking the floor clean. Meanwhile, Maylene kept staring at Nova, wonder in her eyes.

"Your face is so scarred now, Nova," she said, her words slurring together as she took in a mouthful of stew.

Nova grinned. "Does it make me look prettier?"

"…_as if you were pretty to begin with…" _

"You're very pretty," Maylene answered. "But… I actually wanted to ask you something."

"Hm?"

Maylene took another spoonful of stew, glancing down awkwardly and flushing. "Well, I've never killed anyone, ya know. And I was wondering… how do you do it? Kill someone?"

The question made Nova wince.

She had promised not to do it again – she had made that promise, in particular, to Owl the Gastrodon. And yet, she had done it before. Without mercy. Without thought.

"I suppose it's just better them than me," Nova finally said, shrugging. "Back in Twinleaf, that's what it was. If someone was hurt by knights, we didn't do anything. It was better them than us."

"You're always helping Barry, though," Maylene pointed out.

"Barry is different."

It was true. Barry _was _different. It was a something she had noticed in Twinleaf, but something she had only really thought of back in Veilstone. Barry, the blind gladiator, the boy who seemed to breathe in her hate and turn it into hope.

"But what about all those people you have killed?" Maylene asked suddenly. "Not only did you kill them, but you killed everything they brought to the world, no? Their hopes, their dreams, the songs they might have written, the stories they may have told, the discoveries they may have made… You've taken all of that."

Nova arched her brow, her stomach dropping.

She _hadn't _thought about that. But this little girl had.

"When you take someone," Maylene continued after another mouthful of stew, "you don't just take them. You take away everything they could have been. Do you ever think of that, Nova?"

Nova shook her head. "That would lead to madness."

"…_and you aren't already there?..." _

The Snover on the floor had already licked the stew clean. And before Maylene could ask yet another difficult question, Nova turned to Candice.

"Say, what's yer legionary fight like?" she asked.

Candice shrugged. "It depends on how angry I am. I could make you fight a bloody Regigigas, or I could give you my legionary crystal if you just make me laugh."

"And I'm guessing the latter one is harder?"

Maylene snorted at that, and Snover whined, licking Nova's fingers with his flat, little tongue.

"I'm sorry, Snover," Nova said to it. "When the next round of stew comes, I'll be sure to give you more."

The Snover whined again, deeper this time. Then, it made a hacking noise.

And, looking at Nova with its big eyes, the Snover coughed a spray of bright red blood all over the floor.

"Oh, Arceus…" Nova hissed, flinching.

Suddenly, Maylene's spoon fell from her hand, spattering over the table.

"Nova…"

Nova glanced up, saw the trickle of blood spill from the legionary's lips.

"I don't feel so good…"

Nova felt her heart stop. "Oh, _shit._"

Maylene coughed a mouthful of blood, just as Nova ran to catch her. The gladiator glanced over at Candice, who was wiping her own lips and finding blood on her knuckles. Then, there was the Snover, curled up in a puddle of its own blood…

Poison.

The same one that had killed Bebe.

"_Oh, shit_."

She heard cries of pain from all across the table, bewildered curses and hacking coughs. Clutching Maylene in her arms, Nova staggered towards the edge of the platform, watching the other legionaries. Candice and Wake were also on their backs, mouths and hands smeared with blood, bowls of stew spilled over the tables and floor. Maylene moaned, coughed more blood onto Nova's chest.

"Joy!" Nova called out. "_Joy!_"

The room erupted into chaos as more gladiators saw what was going on. Someone began clanging an alarm, some of them were screaming out and checking their own lips. But Nova called out once again to her healer friend, her mind racing.

Someone had tried to poison all the legionaries. Someone…

_The Galactic Healers._

Already, Joy was by her side, feeling Maylene's face. Her eyes wide. Anger and pain and agony in her eyes.

"Zubat poison," Joy hissed. She yelled out at a serving man, "Do you have Moomoo Milk?"

"Aye, I think, but-"

"Go get it! _Now_!"

The poor serving boy hobbled off, while Nova instantly called out for her Pokémon to go to the inns and bring Joy's pack. With a nod, Bailey was off. Even Darkrai remained silent in her shadow.

About then, Roark and Byron rushed onto the platform, panting. Lipstick – Vernia's lipstick – leaving little prints along her father's jaw. He stared at the legionaries – at the pirate, at little Maylene and Candice. Only Fantina, Riley and Volkner hadn't fallen to the floor, and that was merely because they hadn't even been served yet.

"What in Arceus' name…" he breathed out.

"Poison," Joy said. "Zubat poison. We don't have much time. We…"

Byron didn't waste another second. He instantly barked out to his servants, demanding they listen to whatever Joy had to say. It took only seconds to get a big pot into the dining chambers, filled with Moomoo Milk that Tric was heating up with his flames. Then, as soon as Bailey was back, they were tossing Pecha berries into the mix.

The dining chambers looked like a warzone. Candice and Wake were laid out in pools of crimson, ribbons of blood spilling from their lips. But Joy worked quick – with sweat in her eyes and her pulse hammering beneath her skin, she was pouring the mixture into little vials. Riley was already grabbing one, putting it to Candice's lips while Joy did the same with Wake.

Both the healer and the gladiator had exchanged one glance. One frantic, pained, heart-stopping glance.

Because it was the same as it had been after the Spring Dance.

_With Bebe…_

Nova was too hazy. She didn't remember dropping Maylene. She didn't remember crying.

She just remembered rushing to the pot, scooping out some of the mixture into a vial, and running back to Maylene, who was convulsing in Fantina's arms.

The Veilstone legionary was as pale as death. Fantina's eyes were wide, blood on her dress and hands and heels.

Nova wrangled Maylene from Fantina's arms, breathing quick. Laying the little girl on her back, the gladiator wiped the blood from her lips, forced her mouth open. Holding the cup in shaking hands, she poured the mixture into the girl's mouth.

"Swallow it, Maylene," she whispered. "Swallow."

Maylene wasn't listening. And she definitely wasn't swallowing.

Nova tried to put her into a sitting position, but the mixture just spilt from Maylene's lips instead. Then, Fantina was there to help – tilting back Maylene's head, prying her mouth open, letting Nova pour more of the milk into the open mouth.

"Swallow, Maylene," Nova begged. "_Please_."

She massaged the girl's throat, shook her gently.

But Maylene wasn't responding. Wasn't moving. Wasn't breathing.

She was just hanging limp in Nova and Fantina's arms like a pale, broken doll.

"Please, Maylene. _Please_."

Nova choked on her own words, choked on her tears.

_No, no, no—_

Not again. Never again.

_When you take someone, you don't just take them. _

Fantina looked at Nova, eyes wide with shock, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Nova?"

_You take away everything they could have been._

"Please, Maylene," Nova begged.

_Do you ever think of that, Nova?_

The vial slipped from Nova's fingers, shattering on the floor.

_Do you ever think of that?_

* * *

Wake and Candice had survived.

Maylene hadn't.

The gladiators had been ushered away, and even Vernia had been escorted out by Riley's Lucario. Joy had spent the rest of the night just gagging and retching and finally, after crying even more, vomiting – right to the point where Barry had to help her stumble home, Nova's Pokémon forming a protective ring around them.

Nova had decided to stay with Sir Riley and the six remaining legionaries. Tatiana the Gible was the only one beside her as she leaned back against a wall, too tired to cry, but her mind too frantic to sleep.

A Galactic Healer had snuck poison into their stew. And she knew why.

_A ring of death – no pulse, no breath_

_Of champions both brave and bold…_

Cyrus needed five dead legionaries. What better opportunity than to poison them when they were all in one place?

But there had to be more. Watching Maylene die like that, realising that it was the _same _type of poison that had been used on Bebe…

Nova was sure of it. Whoever had been trying to kill her – whoever had been trying to send her back to Twinleaf – was working for the Galactic Healers.

Was it Byron? Why would he try killing her _now_, after openly admitting to everyone that she was his daughter? And why would he want to work with the Galactic Healers? Did he want to go back in time and change the moment he met Vernia?

But no one seemed convinced that it was Byron. In fact, everyone was scowling at Nova.

"It was _not _me," she managed to spit out.

"Then how come you didn't eat anything?" Fantina demanded, arms crossed, eyes red. "How come you pushed your plate off the table?"

"I didn't push it off the table!" Nova jerked her thumb towards Tatiana. "This little shit pushed it off."

"Please, like we believe that-"

Tatiana took that moment to spit out a blob of blue fire at Fantina's heels. Instantly, the legionary backed off.

"I believe her," Wake croaked, his body slumped against the table. "That Gible _is_ a little shit."

But no one else was convinced. Candice, who was also still recovering, hadn't spoken to anyone. She had screamed her throat raw when she had seen Maylene's body, had kicked and cried until she had collapsed when knights had taken the corpse away.

Meanwhile, Fantina and Volkner kept glaring at Nova, while Byron and Roark glared at them.

Finally, with a sigh, Sir Riley moved across the room and placed a warm hand on Nova's shoulder.

"I believe November," he told everyone. "The chef has already been taken for questioning. For now, let's not accuse anyone." He leaned into the gladiator, whispering, "Are you okay?"

Nova shook her head.

She was empty. Bare. Stripped raw. Seeing the way Joy had cried, seeing the way Maylene had fallen limp in her _own _arms…

Oh, Arceus, she just wanted all of it to end. The Galactic Healers. The Gladiator Games. The pain that had come with it.

But Maylene and Bebe's killer was still out there. _Working _for Riley's father, Cyrus.

And she couldn't let them get away.

"It must have been a Galactic Healer," she said weakly to Riley. "They need five legionaries dead to summon Dialga and Palkia. I think that must be why-"

Volkner cut her off, his brow arched. "Care to share that with the rest of us?" he asked. "How would _you _know what the Galactic Healers need? Are _you _working for them?"

"Nay, she's not," Wake shot back, even though he was limp and barely able to hold himself up. "Lady Spiral and I have been helping her work out their spell. We know she's innocent."

"And how do we know that you, Captain Wake, are also not working for them?"

"Volkner, me lad, has yer noggin' always been as rotten as yer mouth?"

"Rich coming from you, you filthy little-"

Candice stood then, her eyes murderous as she stared at Wake. At Volkner. At each and every one of them.

"Shut the fuck up," she snapped. "I don't care who did it. But once I find them, I want to see them dead."

"Candice…" Nova called out softly. She reached for the girl's hand, but the Snowpoint legionary only hissed.

"Don't touch me."

Then, Candice was gone, stumbling away from the table, her sobs echoing behind her.

"She loved her," Riley said softly. "She loved Maylene."

Nova felt her heart break. Felt her insides shatter like ice.

But before she could even consider chasing after the legionary, she felt her blood turn cold. Felt her fingers curl against her own will, felt the visions creep over her eyes before she could stop them.

And she _saw_.

As always, there were multiple visions. Some of the past, some of the future. Some that broke her, some that made her wonder. Some of Bebe, dancing but then lying dead on the grass. Some of Maylene, laughing and gossiping and then coughing out blood. Then, there was herself. Hugging Joy. Screaming at Riley. Touching Barry's scarf. Sitting in a cell. Raising a sword and stabbing and stabbing and stabbing—

Then came the one. The one that changed everything.

It was clearer than the rest, sharper than the rest. As if Dialga _wanted _her to see it. As if he was telling her something.

Someone was walking along marble – marble that must have belonged to the kitchens. Abd all she could see was their hands – slightly tan, somewhat calloused, not a single scar along the palms. Their feet were padding against the tiles – loud and thump, thump, thumping.

And though Nova could only see their hands in the vision, she felt her heart stop.

They were holding a purple lace panty. And, tucked inside, was a vial of some purple liquid – only a few drops left.

_Poison. _

The second the vision was gone, Nova's head snapped towards Fantina.

"It was you, wasn't it?" she demanded. "_You _did this! _You're _working for the Galactic Healers!"

Fantina stumbled back, frowning. "Me?"

"I… I saw it. A purple lace panty. And you were holding the poison. You want to be a princess again, don't you? You would turn back time to do it. I know you would."

"I would _never _kill Maylene," Fantina shot back. "She was just a child."

Nova snorted. "What about Bebe?"

"Bebe? Who?"

Nova didn't believe Fantina's quizzical stare. She didn't even pause for a second – she just stepped closer and fought back the tears. The pain. The agony.

"You've wanted me dead from the moment you knew I existed, Fantina," she pointed out. "You didn't want anyone knowing I was your niece."

Fantina whirled around, turning to Byron. "I haven't given my fucking panties to _anyone_. Don't listen to this child, Byron."

"This _child_," Byron interrupted, "is my daughter."

"And I'm your sister! Don't you fucking _dare-_"

Byron was pale as a ghost as his eyes flickered back and forth between Nova and Fantina. His daughter and his little sister. Unsure of what to do, what to say.

Eventually, it was Wake who cleared his throat and coughed out, "Knights. The girl does not lie about her visions. If what she says is true, then…"

Instantly, knights were moving from the outskirts of the room, chains out. One of them was already grabbing Fantina, and she was shaking – shaking and _screaming _– her eyes on Byron only.

"The punishment for killing a legionary is execution in Turnback Cave," Fantina cried out. "Would you really do that to me? Your _sister_?"

"Fantina…" Byron managed to say. "I…"

"I know you hate me after what I did," Fantina cut in. "I _know_. But I did it to protect us. And you know I would never hurt little Maylene. Even when she caught me and Volkner, I… She was a _child, _Byron. A _child_."

But knights were dragging her away. Her heels clip-clopping against the marbles. Her cries rattling the walls.

And Nova took a sharp breath.

In the vision, there was no clip-clopping. There had been thumping. The thumping of boots.

"Wait!"

The knights stopped. The legionaries froze.

"It wasn't Fantina," Nova said. "It wasn't…"

She trailed off. Heart pounding. Breaths quick. Gible moving in closer.

The shoes. Fantina wouldn't have worn boots – it's not like she could have _known _about Nova's vision.

But who would have Fantina given her purple lace panty to?

Who—

"Nobody move," Nova suddenly called out sharply. "Nobody. Move."

Sure enough, the room went silent. Listening to the girl from Twinleaf, whose eyes were glazed over. Whose hands wouldn't stop shaking as she glanced down at her shadow.

"Darkrai. Come out."

"…_i really am quite enjoying myself here…" _

"Come. Out."

With a long sigh, her shadow slithered away from her boots. Instead, it swirled and swirled, higher and higher in the air, forming the shape of the legend of nightmares. Only Riley and Wake remained still, while the other legionaries and knights either cried out or flinched back.

"So it's true…" Byron muttered softly.

But Nova ignored him. She just raised a hand to Darkrai and touched him gently.

"Go and find that purple lace panty, Darkrai."

"…_nova, this may not be the wisest…" _

"Go."

A beat. A moment where a single eye glanced at two very shining ones.

"…_as you wish…" _

Minutes passed, and no one uttered a word. They were all staring at the shadowless girl, who was clutching onto her hands, fighting back that triumph, that understanding.

Because who else would Fantina give her lace panty to? Who else would she sleep with? Who else would want to change the past?

Only one answer rang in her head.

Volkner.

It had to be him. If he hadn't been caught – caught by Maylene, of all people – he would have had a chance at fighting Duke Rowan. He would have had a chance at being King of Sinnoh. Of course he would work with Cyrus.

Besides, the purple lace panty…

"…_i return…" _

The Darkrai's wispy, thin voice filled the room as he returned. In his fingers was the panty – clean and folded, not a single crease along it. And, in the centre, was the empty vial – one that only had a single drop of purple at the bottom left.

Nova couldn't understand why Darkrai was looking at her with so much despair in that single eye of his.

He should have been happy. They had worked it out. All along, it had been Volkner who had killed Bebe and Maylene. Who had been working for the Galactic Healers. Who had wanted Nova dead.

It had been so _obvious_.

"Well?" Nova demanded. "Where was it?"

"…_nova…" _

"Just tell us already! We know that it was Volkner-"

"…_it was not in volkner's chambers…" _

Nova glanced up sharply. Heard Volkner snort at that.

"What?" the gladiator spat out. "Where…?"

"…_it was under a mattress…" _

"Aye, but _whose _bed?"

There was a long moment of silence. The despair was back in Darkrai's eyes – no sarcasm, no mirth. Just dark, grey remorse.

"…_sir riley's…" _

And the despair all made sense.

"No," she croaked.

Because it all came together, then.

Fantina had been touching Riley up all night, had she not? Even at the Spring Dance, she had her arms hooked around him.

And then there was his father, the _leader _of the Galactic Healers.

The man who was just trying to bring back Riley's mother and sister.

"You're helping your father?" Nova asked. Softly. Like she couldn't believe it for herself.

Riley reeled back, his brows furrowed. "What? Arceus, Nova, of course not-"

But Nova wasn't buying it.

He had lied to her before, hadn't he? About his own fucking name?

The thought itself – about how he had pretended to be a _Lucas _for so long – was dizzying. Then, there was the ale, as well as the sickening clench she had felt in her stomach when she had seen Byron and Vernia kiss, the pain that twisted her heart from watching Maylene die. On top of all of that, there was the thought of that stupid purple lace panty.

That one stung the most.

Had Riley been fancying her aunt all this time?

Had he really been the one who poisoned Maylene and Bebe?

Had he really been the one who had wanted her _dead_?

"It was you," Nova said again. Louder. Sharper. "You want your sister and mother back."

Riley only shook his head. "Nova, please-"

"No. Don't…"

She was at a loss for words. Despair was all she felt – in her heart, her lungs, her fucking _blood_. Heavy as concrete. Painful as shards of glass.

So, scooping down to cradle Gible to her chest, Nova stormed out of the room, Darkrai forming her shadow once again.

"Riley, my lad," Byron was saying behind her, "did you actually…?"

Knights must have been grabbing for Riley's wrist, must have been holding him firmly in place. Because there was the rattling of chains, the breaking of his voice as Riley said, "Let me speak to her. Let me speak to—November, please, _wait_!"

He was breaking. She knew he was breaking. It was in his words, his eyes, his voice.

"Nova, _please_!"

"Take him to Turnback Cave for execution," Volkner snapped. "Twenty whips. Then, Giratina's wrath."

"_Nova_!"

But November was already out of the room. Her back pressed against a wall. Tatiana whimpered as the gladiator sank to the floor and cried, and even Darkrai slid out of her shadow, his cold hand on her shoulder as he silently watched on.

Nova had seen hell before. She had lived through it on her thirteenth birthday, had been surrounded by it since Hearthome.

But never before had her heart felt like this. Never before had _she _felt like this.

Completely, utterly broken.

* * *

**Is it sadistic to say I really enjoyed writing this chapter? **

**Once again, sorry for the death - please remember that, if this upsets you and you need someone to talk to, I am only a message away. Additionally, oof. Sir Riley, hey? The one who was behind it all along? How we feeling about this? **

**Also, I swear, I don't enjoy killing off little girls. It just happened to happen. Maybe it's symbolic. Who knows? **


	46. Chapter XLIV

**Chapter XLIV**

Nova had cried the entire night through. She had cried and cried and cried, tears warm against her pillow, throat so tight that it was strangling the very breath out of her, her Pokémon quietly watching as their gladiator fell apart before their own eyes.

All along, it had been Sir Riley. He had poisoned Bebe and Maylene, and had tried to poison her. Then, there was Fantina's panty, which had been buried beneath his bed, and now…

And now, she had sentenced him to execution.

For some reason, _that _hurt the most.

The next morning, though, after throwing up whatever had been left in her stomach, she decided to forget about it in the way she knew best.

Training.

"Scratch the stone, Tatiana."

The Gible frowned, examining her nails. Then, with a toss of her head, she turned away from Nova and back towards the honey trees, the withering fields of grass, and the ocean that swept around the outskirts of Canalave.

"…_she said no…"_

"Tatiana, will you just bloody scratch it?"

Tatiana flashed her nails in the air – nails that had been painted over with ink she had found in Sir Riley's room. _"Gibee." _

"I don't care about your painted nails. Scratch the damned thing, will you?"

"_Gibee!" _

"No, I will _not _paint them afterwards-"

Nova was cut off by Barry, who was listening to his friend and the Gible as he perched on a stone behind them.

"I don't understand," he muttered. "Sir Riley would never. Maybe there was a mistake."

His voice was cracked and raw, strained from his own crying during the night. But Nova didn't have time to think about his words, his tears, his helpless protests.

She found that it was much easier to forget the _maybes_. It was easier to do what she had done for so many years of her life.

_Always, always forget. _

"He would, and he did," is all she said. "That's the end of it."

"But he told us that he didn't want to turn back time…"

"He also told us that his name was Lucas for months."

Barry sighed. "Aye, but… I don't believe it. I _won't _believe it. Nova, Riley was our _friend_."

"Friends don't try poisoning their other friends."

"That's what I'm saying!" Barry pointed out. "It _can't _have been him! He would _never _have tried poisoning Bebe, nor would he have ever tried poisoning you."

He was crying again – soft, desperate little sobs. Even Nova found herself sinking into a crouch, her hands around her stomach, that horrible and aching pain ripping at her insides as she thought about Riley, his smile, his warm hands, his gentle eyes.

A lie. All of it.

And, in the afternoon, he would be a dead lie. Executed at sunset.

"Barry," she said quietly. "Not everyone is as honest as you. Some people are horrible. You need to stop shoving rainbows up your arse and start to see what is really going on."

"Nay."

"Nay?"

"Nay," he repeated. "Because I know Riley. He is my patron. He would never have poisoned you. He _adored _you."

Nova scowled. "It was a lie, Barry."

"It was not a lie, by the bloody gears of time. I'm not stupid, Nova. I know what I-"

"What you _saw_?" Nova finished. "You couldn't even bloody see him!"

The words had come out before she could even think about then. Only when she saw Barry flinch back, hurt flashing in those unseeing eyes, did she close her eyes and let her own tears dribble down. Tatiana the Gible just stood there, staring at the gladiator, at the way she had snapped, at the way she was crumbling.

"That was mean, Nova," Barry said quietly.

"I know. I'm sorry."

Barry shrugged it off, though.

"I may be blind, but I'm not a bloody dongsack," he calmly pointed out. "The way Riley trained me, the way he looked after us, the way he spoke about _you_…"

He staggered onto his feet, shaking his head as he started to stumble away.

"You know, Nova, for someone who has two working eyes, you're pretty fucking blind yerself."

Then, he was gone, leaving Nova with her stubborn little Gible.

And, as Nova glanced up to see Tatiana, she realised that the Gible had finally started sharpening her nails against the stone. Furiously. Desperately. Black paint flaking from her nails.

"Thank you, Tatiana," Nova said. "Even if it took you a bloody year."

Tatiana scowled.

"…_she wants you to sound more genuine…" _

"Oh, piss off."

* * *

Barry wasn't the only one who wanted to speak about Riley.

Nova and Tatiana threaded their way towards Canalave, ignoring the many murmurs and whispers from townsfolk and gladiators alike, ignoring their pitiful and suspicious stares towards her and her twisting shadow. All of them reminding her of what he had done. Of what she had done.

Worse yet, the second she moved into her room in the Canalave inns, she found Joy and Roark lounging against her bed and chair, her five other Pokémon curled up on the rug.

"_Finally," _Joy said, huffing. "Nova, Riley was with you yesterday morning, correct?"

Nova winced. She didn't want to remember his words to her – his pathetic words about happily ever after, about courage, about being _noble_. All she wanted to do with snatch up a dagger and rip at the tattoo he had traced over her back.

Instead, though, she pressed Tatiana to her chest and leaned against the wall.

"Aye," she gritted out.

"The poison that was used in the stew was Zubat poison," Joy rattled on. "Which, by the way, can't be cooked. Once Zubat poison is cooked, the properties that make it deadly instantly disappear. That means that the poison was added _after _the chef finished making the stew."

"Which was in the evening," Roark added. "After the sun had set, according to the chef."

Joy tapped a finger against her cheek thoughtfully. "Do we know where Riley was around that time?"

"Aye, we do," Nova cut in. "He was in the kitchens, adding the freaking poison. Now, can you get out?"

Because, by Arceus, she _wanted _to join them. She _wanted _to hold the same doubts as them. She _wanted _to believe he was innocent.

But that hurt too much. His execution was in hours – maybe less. It was too late for hope.

Besides, had he not lied about his own name for months? Had he not admitted that his own father was leading the Galactic Healers? Had he not also been there at the Spring Dance, when Bebe had been poisoned?

"Nova, with all due respect, please shut up," Joy finally said.

Nova glanced up sharply at the healer. "Why?"

"Because we think that Riley has been framed," Roark said.

"_What_?"

Her voice had come out so desperate, so full of _hope_, that even Tric had woken up at the sound of it. Then, the Infernape was hissing at Roark – no doubt thinking that he had said something hurtful towards the gladiator – and started patting down the rug. Searching for Nova's dagger.

The three humans ignored the Infernape. Instead, Joy cleared her throat.

"Riley is not an idiot," she pointed out. "He wouldn't put a vial of poison and the underwear in his own room when there's an entire bloody ocean to dump it in. Someone knew that you, Nova, would go to his room eventually and see it. They knew you would get angry about the panty, see the poison later at night…"

"But, wait," Nova quickly said. "The person also tried to poison me. So how would they expect me to go into Riley's room if I'm bloody dead?"

Roark cocked his head to the side, frowning. "But, if you were dead, then maybe it wouldn't even matter who got the blame. But because you survived, they may have wanted to hurt you in some other way…"

"And what better way than to make you think Riley had betrayed you?" Joy finished.

It made sense. It made a _lot _of sense.

But still, Nova couldn't bring herself to believe it. Not while she could still hear Maylene's dying breath, not while she could still see the vision in her head whenever she closed her eyes.

Tric yelped out suddenly, and Nova rolled her eyes as she realised that he had, in fact, tried to stab Roark. But, instead of curling his hand around the hilt of a dagger, he had squeezed his palm around the blade.

She rushed to his side, dropping Tatiana and reaching for some bandages.

Then, as she curled the bandages around his palm, she froze.

Riley had made her a blood oath that morning. He had sliced his own hand for it.

And yet, in the vision…

_In the vision…_

A purple lace panty. A vial of poison – almost empty. The marble floors of the kitchen.

Tanned hands. Somewhat calloused.

Not a single scar along the palms.

"Wait," Nova said. "What time did you say the poison was added, Joy?"

"After sunset, the same night of the gala."

Which meant that Riley would have had scarred hands. Because he had made the blood oath in the morning.

Meaning…

"Oh, _shit_," Nova hissed. "It wasn't Riley. The person's hand in the vision wasn't scarred, but Riley _did _have a scar. Oh, Arceus, _it_ _wasn't Riley._"

She couldn't help the brief flutter of hope in her heart, of warmth and relief.

But then, she saw Joy's face pale.

"I'll go find Byron right away," she said. "We need to stop his execution. Roark, don't let Nova do anything stupid."

The healer was up on her feet and striding out of the room in seconds, leaving a shaking November with her half-brother.

"Hey," he said softly. "Are you alright?"

Nova nodded weakly. "Aye, I'm fine. I… I'm sorry that you won't be a legionary when Cynthia comes back. I didn't realise that ruining our father's name would ruin yours, too. I'm sorry."

"As am I," he said, smiling sadly. "But I wouldn't worry about that. I'm worried about Riley. Once the sun sets, his execution begins. Even if Joy tells Father in time, I fear we may be late."

"What do we do, then?"

Roark hesitated. "Well, I can tell you how to get to Wayward Cave. But it's dangerous."

"Tell me."

"But Joy said not to-"

"I'm not doing anything stupid. I swear."

"…_and you call riley a liar…"_

* * *

Within minutes, she was riding on Bailey's back, with Leila the Roserade in her arms as they swept through the clouds, through the sky, through the other Starly and Staravia that squawked at them.

Nova had been so busy dealing with her spinning head, her rattling heart, and her churning stomach that she barely remembered landing. She hardly remembered darting into Wayward Cave, where darkness seemed to ooze out of every crack in the stones, where murals seemed to dance and shift every time she so much as blinked.

Instead, with her boots pounding against the stone and her Roserade and Staraptor racing behind her, she followed the grunting. The lashing of a whip. The desperate cries.

When she found him, she nearly shattered.

Through the dim light of another knight's torch, Nova could see Riley's skin – lightly tanned, but paler over his back and chest. His hair was ruffled, his fingers were clenched into fists beside him, and—

Something flashing in the other knight's hand – long and thin and silver.

And the whip came down.

She saw it bite into his skin, saw the blood, saw him arch back.

"Four," the knight with the whip said with a snort. "Sixteen to go."

Oh, Arceus, _sixteen_?

Riley made a small noise – choked, tight. An echoing sound of horror and betrayal, a little grunt of pain and rage and hurt.

Then, as the knight raised his whip again, Nova grabbed Leila and ran.

She dashed towards Riley and dropped down beside him. She heard the knight protest behind her, heard him gruffly try to kick her aside. But she paid no attention to him. All she could see was Riley – _her _Riley, on his knees, his arms shaking as he held his head, blood running down his back.

The muscles in his shoulders flexed as she touched him – as she touched the _blood_ that sliced through his Murkrow tattoo – as if he were bracing himself for the next lashing.

"Riley," she whispered.

He froze, then, turning his face slightly. His lower lip was bitten, blood dripped off his chin, and though he stared at her, he was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Nova?" he gasped.

"Hush," she said softly, putting her hand against his cheek, her fingers in his hair. He was wet with blood and sweat, his eyes wide open as Nova urged Leila the Roserade closer. "I'm here."

She exchanged a glance with Leila, who nodded in understanding. Then, raising a rose, pink dust sprinkled out.

"Sleep," she whispered, so quietly that only Riley could hear her. For a moment, his eyes fluttered and flickered, confused and shocked. Then, with a slight grunt, he slumped to the ground, completely unconscious.

Asleep, and unable to feel the pain.

Unable to feel the—

Pain exploded over Nova's back. It was as if a bar of fire had been laid there, as if she, herself, had been lashed with the whip.

And, as she glanced up, blood in her mouth and tears in her eyes, she saw the knight scowling down at her.

"He told me this would happen," the knight said curtly. "And he told me to just whip anyone who came in my way."

_He? _Who was _he_?

The knight raised the whip in the air, the glint in his eyes sickening.

"Five," he told Nova. "Fifteen to go."

Then, as it came down, Nova braced herself.

She deserved it. She deserved _this. _The pain. The agony. The suffering.

And yet, she didn't feel a thing.

Because, this time, when she turned her head, she realised that Owl the Gastrodon was there. Taking the whip for her.

"Owl?" she asked. "Where did you…"

She cut her words off as she realised that a certain Azelf was hovering by the corner of the room, surrounded by _all _of the Pokémon she had left in Canalave. Rhys, Tric, Tatiana…

All of them. There for her.

And when Owl had taken another lashing from the rather impatient looking knight, Bailey the Staraptor had swooped in and taken the next two. And when Bailey cawed and hissed in pain, Leila had swept him aside and jumped in to take the next two.

Then came Rhys, shoving aside the Roserade and scowling as the whip sliced through his back.

_Crack!_

Not turning to bite the knight, as Nova expected him to do.

_Crack!_

But standing there, taking the whippings, with honour. With pride.

"Thirteen," the knight snapped. "Seven to go."

And even with his bleeding arm, Tric stumbled over and took the lashings next – even though Rhys growled at him to back off.

Two cracks of the whip. Two whispered cries of pain.

And, as the next was coming down on the Infernape, there was a sudden movement across the cavern floor.

Then, to everyone's absolute shock, Tatiana the Gible was there. Taking one lash, then the next. Her face as cold as steel, her eyes closed as the blood slipped down her back.

"Seventeen. Three to go."

And Nova couldn't bear it anymore.

Because these Pokémon had come all the way here for _her_ mistake. For her blindness.

"The last three go to me," Nova said. "The last three go to me, and no one else."

Rhys and Tric protested, but Leila held them back. Nodding in understanding. Her eyes shining with tears.

And, holding Riley in her arms, Nova turned her back towards the knight.

The whip whistled as he raised it. She closed her eyes. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw Riley, tucked in his bedroom, his forehead pressed against hers. She heard his voice whisper those words – those words that felt a lifetime away.

_I don't think a happily ever after is selfish. _

The whip came down. If Nova had thought she had felt pain when she had first felt the whip, it was like _agony _now. Even with her shirt there, her back felt as if it was being ripped open by fire, and she had to ground her teeth together to silence her scream, her curses, her pain.

_I think it's noble._

Again. The pain was worse this time. Sharp. Piercing. Demanding.

_To want to share happiness even after coming straight from hell…_

Again. The final whip. The pain rose up like a wave, blotting out everything – her thoughts, her Pokémon's screams, her grip on Riley. The world was crumpling, folding in on itself, and yet, even as the darkness swallowed her, she heard those words. Those beautiful, precious words.

_I think it's the most courageous thing two people could ever reach for. _

* * *

Nova had drifted in and out of consciousness after the whippings. Thinking. Plotting.

Someone had poisoned Bebe, had poisoned Maylene, and had tried to poison her. They were part of the Galactic Healers – needing five dead legionaries for the spell to raise Dialga and Palkia. But they also wanted her dead.

Why? _Why? _

And when they had failed, they had tried framing Riley instead. The knight that had been whipping Riley had also been expecting her. There had been _orders _for him about that.

Which meant that whoever the killer was, they had some sort of title.

_Volkner? Fantina? _

_Queen Cynthia? _

Whoever it was, Nova decided she hated them. She hated them, and she hated Cyrus for _needing _the five dead legionaries. For needing sweet, little Maylene dead.

When Nova finally pried her eyes open, she found Riley staring down at her, his hands running through her hair.

"Your father is a piece of shit," she told him.

He arched his brow. "You went from unconscious to judgemental very quickly."

Nova winced as she sat up, as that familiar ache lanced through her back. She was stiff all over – from both the pain, and from the thick bandages that had been tightly fastened around her torso. Even the shirt she had been wearing before was back over her shoulders, but the back of it had turned into strips of ribbons, torn and tattered with her blood.

Riley was in no better condition, nor were her Pokémon. All of them had bandages wrapped around their bleeding limbs, and most of them were sleeping against her arms. And, as she glanced up, she realised that the person who had been bandaging them all was—

Oh, bloody hell.

"I always knew Riley had a knack for getting himself into trouble," Byron said, shoving the leftover strips of white into his pack. "But you, too, November?"

"…_perhaps this is where she gets the judgemental-ness from…" _

Even though all three humans could hear the shadow, they all chose to ignore it.

"Promise me, you two, never to do something like that again," Byron said firmly.

Nova rolled her eyes. "Next time, we'll fake our deaths using Bibarel blood."

"What?"

"Long story. Leave it."

She turned to Riley, who still had his arm slung around her. There was so much she wanted to tell him – an apology for nearly having him killed, a cry about Maylene's final words to her, a confession about what he meant to her.

It was in his eyes, too. The swirling thoughts and desires, the hope and confusion in his eyes.

But neither of them said a word. Not with her father right there.

Instead, Riley cleared his throat and glanced to the side.

"Is Giratina not coming to take us into the Distortion World?" he asked.

They all turned to where he was pointing. There, cutting through the air, was a black portal – full of sheer darkness, as if the hole itself had been combed through with black ink. Though they couldn't see anything on the other side but swimming pools of black, Nova could hear the screaming – the hissing and wailing, the sound of crumbling stone and bursts of fire.

"It sounds like Giratina is… busy," Byron said. "Though, we should leave. It's night, and Joy, Roark and Barry are waiting for us."

They stood to walk, and with every step she took, Nova felt the slight jab of pain along her back. Her Pokémon and Riley felt it, too; they were all stumbling hopelessly, wincing, fighting back grunts as they moved slowly towards the light—

_Help…_

A voice. It cut straight through her head. Calling her. Urging her.

Coming from…

The portal?

_Help…_

"Did you hear that?" Nova asked.

Riley frowned. "Hear what?"

"That voice."

"…_hearing voices again, are we?…"_

"Did you hear it, too, Darkrai?"

"…_aye. i hear it. it's very annoying…" _

"I think it's coming from the portal."

Her shadow only shrugged, though. _"…that's not what i was talking about…" _

"You said you heard an annoying voice-"

"…_that annoying voice is you…" _

Nova didn't even bother rolling her eyes. She only turned back to the portal, hearing the voice again and again, it's desperate call for help.

Someone was in there. Someone needed her.

And so, with her breaths ragged, Nova staggered back towards the portal. Towards the darkness.

She saw eyes, then. Purple eyes. Glaring and sharp, a wicked gleam within them as they found Nova.

Then, whatever it was, it was grabbing her hand and tearing itself out of the portal. And, before Nova could even take another glance at it, she was being hurled backwards.

Dust fell into her eyes, and stones dug into her skin as she rolled onto the ground. She could hear Riley and Byron calling her name, could feel Rhys's fur and Tatiana's scales as they reached for her.

And when she opened her eyes, whoever she had pulled out of the portal was gone.

"By the shitting shadows," she mumbled, brushing the crumbling stone from her britches.

"…_i am most certainly not shitting…" _

"It's a saying."

"…_aye, and it's horribly inaccurate…" _

Nova shrugged away Rhys's concerned glance and started to force herself back up when she heard Darkrai again.

"…_though, you should be shitting yourself…" _

"Why?"

"…_giratina is angry…" _

"What?"

Darkrai's voice didn't sound even the slightest bit worried as he hissed, _"…you let his prisoner escape…" _

Nova glanced up towards the portal, eyes wide.

Sure enough, black tentacles that were smattered red at the points were stretching out – crawling towards her, reaching for her.

"…_see?..." _

Riley was calling out her name – louder, shaper. Telling her to move.

And she was already up on her feet, her ankles aching as she ran towards him, towards Byron, her muscles burning as she drank in the stale air.

Oh, Arceus, she was _not _ready for Giratina's wrath. She was not—

One of the tentacles found her ankle. And, with a yank, Nova was being dragged straight towards the portal. She could feel the cold bite of the darkness in her legs, could feel it sucking her in hungrily, could feel the blackness lapping over her knees, her hips, her stomach—

Oh, Arceus, she was being sucked into the portal by Giratina.

A hand grabbed her, just as her head was inches away from falling through. She could see Riley stumbling towards her, could see her Pokémon shrieking as they also tried racing towards her, but they were all injured and slow. Which meant that the hand grabbing her, that held onto her so tight that it hurt, could only have been one person.

"I will not let you go, November," Byron said. "Do you hear me? I will _not _let you go."

And, by Arceus, he _didn't _let her go. He held her tighter, used both of his hands to try dragging her back, his palms slick with sweat that it was a wonder he could even hold on.

"I will _not _let you go," he repeated.

He never _did _let her go, either.

For, before Riley could reach for the pair and haul them back, both November and Lord Byron had fallen through the portal and into the Distortion World.

* * *

**Oh, la, la~ **

**So, Riley has been framed. But by who? I didn't want "Evil Riley" to last very long. It made no sense to anyone. But then again, maybe Riley is still hiding things...? Who knows? **

**Also, a quick note: the purple eyes that Nova saved from the Distortion World accidentally, that was calling for 'help', and disappeared? That's actually crossover stuff! So, the purple eyes won't be revealed in this story, nor will they return. It was just an Easter Egg, really, and that Easter Egg comes from Plegian Gengar's story, "The Rose that was Always Red". Check it out! **


	47. Chapter XLV

**Chapter XLV**

The Distortion World was a strange place to be. Nova wasn't falling or flying; she was just floating in a dark blanket, with walls of black and yellow crumbling around her. There were some hallowed pools of lights woven through the darkness, shining like red diamonds, making it look as if she was seeing everything through red glass.

But that wasn't the strange part.

She couldn't smell anything. She couldn't _taste _anything but ashes. There was no wind breathing across her face, no heat around her.

She was just floating in nothing.

And she was tired, too. She felt like the lashings from the whip had been opened up on her back again, and though she could feel Byron squeezing onto her hand, she felt distant. Lost. Thinking of Bebe, of Maylene, of the Galactic Healers.

"…_being angry is tiring, dear nova…" _

Darkrai's voice was far more reassuring than Byron's grip on her hand.

"…_rest. we will look after you…" _

She didn't want to rest. She wanted to fight. She wanted to find the damned Giratina and give it a piece of her mind.

But the shadow was right. She was injured, she was hurt, she was hollow.

And, against her own will, the legend of nightmares forced his host to close her eyes.

Byron immediately caught her, cradling her in his arms, light as a feather as they drifted and swerved through the dark.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"…_she would fight giratina instead of run away. and i don't fancy her dying here…" _

"I haven't even _seen _Gira-"

Before he even finished, he felt something slice through the space around him. Cold and deadly. Quick and rough.

Giratina.

It looked like a serpent, with the tentacles branched out from its back. There were spikes all over it – along the tips of those tentacles, along its side, ringing around its tails. It swerved around again, eyes darting frantically around, hissing as it landed on November and Byron.

"…_hide…" _

Byron just stared, frozen. Watching.

It was _huge. _And, with every glide and swoop, the entire Distortion World rumbled and quaked, shuddered and groaned.

Byron had never seen such raw power in his life.

The beam came then – a blast of darkness, tearing through the space, making dust and debris spill out from the wall it had hit.

"…_hide, you fool…"_

This time, Byron listened immediately. He tightened his hold on Nova and forced his hand to grip onto the nearest wall, kicking his legs until he was spinning around. His legs found the wall, and just like that, the entire world seemed to shift and turn – no longer was he upside down, but now he was standing upright. Walking on the _wall_.

Then, he ran. He didn't know where to hide. He didn't know where to go. All he knew was that Giratina was angry and chasing after him, black light pulsing from its mouth.

Before it could land its attack, two things stumbled through the portal – a Luxray and a Gible. Giratina turned to glare at them as they fell through and stumbled into the bits of debris and metal that floated around the space.

Giratina wasn't stupid. He could smell them – could smell that they had the same scent as the girl who had helped his prisoner escape. So, the second he watched the two Pokémon straighten up, he growled at them and pulsed his energy once again.

The Luxray whispered something to the Gible, his eyes dipping to her fangs.

Then, the pair split up.

It wasn't hard to decide who to attack. The Gible looked utterly harmless, after all. So, as Rhys the Luxray roared and bolted towards one side, Giratina levelled his shot.

A scream rang out.

Rhys stumbled and fell against a wall.

And, as Byron glanced up, he realised that the scream had come from _Giratina's _mouth. Because the Gible had decided to jump and chomp on its tail.

Rhys the Luxray snorted, jumping back onto his feet, completely unharmed. Then, as the Giratina tried flicking Tatiana the Gible away, he sent a burst of electricity spitting towards the legendary.

It didn't hurt Tatiana one bit, and Giratina, itself, hardly seemed to care.

But Rhys didn't mind. Because what _did _matter was that Giratina found itself paralysed afterwards. And, with electricity brimming across its body, the legendary hissed and winced as its body curled up and froze.

Tatiana held on, still. Biting so hard that it was like her teeth were beginning to grow, like her muscles were beginning to stretch out.

It was that moment that she realised she was no longer a Gible, but a Gabite.

And, as she leapt off the Giratina, she shot a beam of her own into its face – a purple beam, fiery and demanding, brighter than the glowing pools of light around her.

The legendary shrieked and slipped away, further into the darkness. Its scream echoing in her eyes. The pain in its eyes etched into her skull.

She looked at Rhys as he dragged her onto the wall beside him, her mouth trembling.

She had never hurt someone before – let alone a legendary. She hadn't expected her stomach to churn so much afterwards, nor had she expected the guilt. Even though it had been about to kill her own gladiator.

With a glance at Rhys, she bowed her head and frowned.

Had she done the right thing?

Rhys reached forwards and softly nudged her with his own head. Smiling proudly.

And she decided that, yes. Yes, she had.

* * *

While Giratina lurked somewhere in his world, recovering, Byron, Darkrai, Rhys and Tatiana lay huddled beneath a cluster of stones and watched as Nova awoke. The first thing she did was stare at Tatiana, eyes narrowed at the Gabite.

"Tatty? Is that _you_?"

Tatiana scowled.

"Okay, aye. That's you."

Meanwhile, Lord Byron brought his legs close to his chest and frowned.

"So, you and Sir Riley?"

Nova didn't even spare him a glance. She just kept her gaze on the two Pokémon that had jumped in after her, patting them gently on their heads. "What about it?"

"I'd heard the rumours, but I hadn't thought they were true," he admitted. "My daughter, who I didn't know was alive in Twinleaf, and the Knight on High, who I trained in my own home? It's… strange. Just before he was about to become a king, too."

"And what makes you think those rumours are true?"

He smiled softly at her.

"I saw the way you looked at each other," he said. "Sometimes, that's enough."

Nova _still _couldn't work out what to say to him.

On one hand, he had made her mother's life a living hell. But then, just minutes ago, he had been the one to try saving her from Giratina, had he not? What was _that _about?

Was it guilt, perhaps?

Either way, she wanted nothing to do with it.

"Well?" she asked curtly. "Are you going to tell me to stay away from him?"

"No. I want you two to be happy."

"But then he won't be a king."

He shrugged. "So? I was ready to stop being a prince for your mother. If Riley wants to do the same, I understand."

That did it.

Nova glanced up sharply, scowling.

"You _don't _understand!" she snapped. "You pushed her down the fucking stairs!"

Byron flinched back at that. "November, I never pushed Vernia down the stairs."

But she didn't hear him. She was already up on her feet, stumbling her way through the Distortion World, dizzy from both her aching heart and the spinning world itself.

* * *

It didn't take them long to find the portal leading them back into Wayward Cave.

But it also didn't take them long to realise they had a problem.

Giratina was guarding the portal.

"And, even if we escape, he'll just chase after us, anyways," Nova pointed out, her back pressed against a wall as she floated through the dark.

"…_you'll have to seal the distortion world, then…" _

"How?"

Her shadow crawled out from beneath her, moving like a puddle of darkness along the wall.

"…_follow me…" _

They floated behind the Darkrai, silently as ever, Nova clenching her fists every time Byron came too close to her. And though the legionary had the sense to back off at the sight of her Luxray and Gabite, he did notice that neither of the two Pokémon seemed violently opposed to his presence.

After all, they had seen the way he had brought their gladiator to safety.

Eventually, after jumping from wall to wall, and spirally lazily through the space, Darkrai brought them to a tomb. It was a lump of stone, with writing scrawled along it, attached to the crumbling yellowed path beneath it.

Byron was still too far back, and as Darkrai formed her shadow again, Nova whispered, "Darkrai, I can't read."

"…_then ask your father?..." _

"You can read it, can't you?"

"…_aye, but watching you be angry is tiring…" _

Nova swore as Darkrai refused to say any more. Instead, to her horror and dismay, Tatiana rolled her eyes and dragged the legionary to the tomb herself.

But, instead of gesturing for Byron to read the tomb, Tatiana pointed at Nova.

The legionary stared at Nova, head cocked to the side. "What is your Gabite telling me?"

Nova flushed.

Tatiana wasn't telling Byron anything. She was telling _Nova _to do the talking.

Which was rich, considering what a stubborn little shit Tatiana was, herself.

"This tomb apparently gives instructions on how to seal this world," Nova gritted out.

Byron nodded. "Aye? What instructions?"

She didn't want to be embarrassed to admit it to him. She hadn't felt embarrassed admitting it to Bebe or Joy, and she had only felt a pinch of that agonising humiliation with Lady Spiral.

But with Lord Byron?

She felt like her face was on fire.

"I dunno," she finally mumbled out.

He furrowed his brow. "You don't know how to read?"

"Aye."

"Wait, do you mean that-"

"Aye, I bloody can't read!" she cut in. "By Arceus, fuck this-"

Byron grabbed her by the wrist before she could storm off this time. He held her tight, yanked her towards him, and sighed.

"November, please, I didn't mean to upset you. Please just listen to me for once."

"Why would I listen to a bloody-"

"_Please_."

She froze as she realised that his voice was choked, that his eyes were swollen red as tears welled up.

Legionary Byron was crying. Oh, Arceus, she had made him _cry_.

"I wish I had held you when you were a baby," he said softly. "I wish I had been there for your first step. I wish I had taught you how to use that sword of yours. I wish I had taught you how to read. Bloody hell, I would have turned my entire home into a library for you, November."

And Nova knew, as she saw Tatiana and Rhys smile softly at her, that the man spoke the truth. That each and every tear that ran down his cheeks was real.

"I never pushed Vernia down the stairs," he continued. "That was Fantina. And I've hated her ever since."

Nova watched as the man broke before her. As he shook and shuddered, as he wiped at his eyes.

And she believed every word.

"Byron, I…"

He cut her off by raising his hand. "Wait. Let me read this to you first."

And, as he began to read, Nova went silent.

_When the universe was created, its shards became this Plate. _

_The power of defeated giants infuses this Plate. _

_Two beings of time and space set free from the Original One. _

_Three beings were born to bind time and space. _

_Two make matter and three make spirit, shaping the world. _

_The Original One breathed alone before the universe came. _

_The powers of this Plate are shared among Pokémon and People._

_The rightful bearer of a Plate draws from the Plate it holds. _

_The Plate shall remain in the Distortion World for as long as it remains open. _

_And when it's gone, the Distortion World is sealed with it. _

"So, to seal this world, we must take this plate to the other side with us," Byron finished.

Nova stared at her father, at the plate, and frowned.

"That's impossible," she pointed out. "The plate is as bloody big as Tatiana. If we picked it up and tried to carry it to the portal, Giratina would notice."

"That's true."

Tatiana narrowed her eyes and moved towards the stone. Then, with a dramatic sigh and a roll of her eyes, she started sharpening her nails on them.

"Stop that," Nova told her. "We already have enough legendries wanting to murder us."

"…_am i on this list?..." _

"Should you be?"

But Byron took a sharp breath suddenly.

"The Plate says nothing about us taking it to the other side _whole_, does it?" he pointed out.

"Nay?"

"Then we break it. We break it into pieces so that we _can _carry it to our side."

There was a moment of silence as his four companions considered it. Then, Nova smiled.

"You know, you're pretty bloody clever for an old man."

* * *

The plan had been made: Nova would break the stone, and Byron would distract Giratina.

And it was going awfully.

Each little dart the Giratina made through the space made Nova's bones rattle. For a moment, she just watched as Byron tried to dodge a swing from those massive claws, too sluggishly, too slowly. Giratina struck his side, and Nova nearly screamed as her father tumbled onto a wall.

Giratina lunged for Byron again, but this time, he rolled to the side just in time to escape those tentacles.

Nova pulled out her own sword, not stopping to glance over at the gleam of silver. Tatiana and Rhys were trying to break the Plate, clawing at it and hurling bolts of electricity and purple fire at it.

But there was nothing – no cracks, no splinters.

So, Nova tightened her hands around the warm hilt and slammed her blade of diamond into the Plate.

The sword immediately bounced back, and the force of it was enough for Nova to feel her bones jangle as she stumbled back.

To her relief, though, a new crack ran across the stone, glinting silver. With her heart swelling ever so slightly, Nova dove back to the Plate and plunged her blade into it.

Stars burst in her vision as she was thrown back once again.

But the crack along the stone had grown. She was sure of it.

Tatiana blindly kicked at the stone, throwing her foot at it again and again until they could all hear the stone groaning beneath her weight, until they could _see _the cracks splintering further and further across the stone—

The words disappeared as Nova thrust herself forwards again, the sword hissing in her hand.

And, this time, the sword sank through the words and sent the stones splintering into little, fragmented plates. Eighteen of them in total.

Nova gathered them into piles, shoving half of them onto Rhys's back and the other half into Tatiana's arms. Then, she turned back towards Byron, whose mouth was stained with dark blood. Giratina charged at him, the rattle of its screech lost as it hurled another beam of darkness. Byron dodged to one side with a fluid step, and Giratina swivelled in his direction, eyes blazing with wrath. It lunged forwards again, only to be slashed by a burst of purple fire from Tatiana.

As the Giratina reeled back, Byron gave his daughter a strained smile. "Let's _go_!"

They all moved for the portal, leaping from wall to wall, the hollow sound of their footsteps drowned out by Giratina's screaming.

Rhys the Luxray was the first to make it to the other side. Then came Tatiana the Garchomp, leaping out after him.

And, with all the small plates on the other side, the portal began to shrink. Dwindle. Close.

Nova and Byron were only steps away. They were so close – so damned close, that just two jumps later, they would have been safe. Completely, utterly—

Giratina's beam shot Byron right in the face, flaying his neck backwards like a willow caught in the wind. And though Byron's head was still on his shoulders, though he was still breathing and conscious, Nova could see the agony in his eyes as she caught him.

His jaw was swollen and bleeding. Giratina was inching closer, shrieking.

And the portal was getting thinner and thinner by the second.

Nova only had a minute – maybe less. Probably less.

Giratina moved for her again, but this time, Nova managed to lower Byron and raise her sword. A sharp clang stung her ears as her blade clashes against Giratina's claws, as her sword shivered against the brutality, against that compelling and raw strength that drove it forwards—

With her own muscles aching, Nova growled as she managed to push and push and _push _until—

Giratina finally lurched back, shock and fury in its eyes. Nova ignored it, drove her sword back into the belt, picked Byron up, and ran for the portal.

Even though he hardly weighed a thing in the Distortion World, Nova knew she was moving slower. It was hard enough balancing between floating and walking, jumping and soaring. And with his body slumped over her shoulder, with his dark hair falling in front of her eyes, she was stumbling and tripping the whole way there.

And the portal was getting smaller.

If that hadn't been horrible enough, Darkrai had abandoned her shadow and leapt to the other side. Leaving the fear in her stomach making her want to lurch and cry and scream.

_Oh, shit_.

She would be trapped here. It would be the end.

"Nova," Byron croaked. "You have to let me go."

"No."

"You won't make it."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Nova…"

Nova gritted her teeth and took another lunge onto another wall. She nearly missed her mark entirely – slipping against the stones, her hands hardly grasping onto the grey ivy that lay dead alone the path.

Still, she held on and snarled.

"I found my father after eighteen fucking years," she told him. "I'm not letting him go now."

Byron paused, his eyes finding hers, big and warm. "You called me your father."

"Aye. And we are getting out."

But Giratina was back, its long body hovering before the portal.

And as it glared at her, Nova found herself wanting to shrivel up.

It was strange to have fear again. It was strange to feel her blood turn cold, to feel her pulse hammer so wickedly within her chest.

It was strange knowing that she had lost.

"We will make it," she said again, despite herself. "We will…"

The portal was as long and thin as her sword. Shrinking and shrinking. Disappearing completely.

Byron wasn't looking at Nova anymore. His gaze was locked onto the portal – his gaze narrowed, his eyes twinkling with understanding. Like he had seen something. Like he was communicating with something. But before Nova could follow his eyes, he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to face him.

"Nova, look at me," he said. "My home in Canalave? It's all yours. Do whatever you want with it. Turn it into a library, if you must. And you have two legionary crystals to go. I want you to try and try and try, and get those bloody crystals. Once you have them, go and win back our throne. Try and try and try, aye?"

Nova only stared at him. "By the shitting shadows, what are you-"

He hugged her close for the first time and the last time. Then, before Nova could even wrap her own arms around him, Byron turned to the portal.

"Rhys, _now_!"

And Legionary Byron lunged towards Giratina.

A scream shattered Nova's throat as Giratina's tail flung Byron aside. The legionary was still alive – but he was battered across his entire left side as he fell against a wall, his breathing ragged.

"Giratina!" he yelled out. "Look at me! You fucking _missed_!"

And, as the Giratina hissed again and lunged, the portal was left unguarded.

But Nova didn't care. She wasn't going to leave him. She wasn't going to—

In that second, Rhys the Luxray leapt back into the Distortion World. And, before Nova could even protest, he grabbed her shirt with his fangs and yanked her towards the portal. Towards safety.

And the two slid through, with air rushing into their faces, with the damp heat of Wayward Cave exhaling over them.

"Father!"

Nova instantly staggered to her feet, whirling around to face the portal.

But, just as she reached for it, it closed. Just like that.

With her father trapped on the other side.

"No…" she whispered, stepping back on the plates scattered beneath her feet. "_No_."

Darkrai – who had been hiding in Rhys's shadow all along, instructing him – moved back to form Nova's shadow. Even then, that didn't stop the pain in her heart – the guilt, the loss.

"…_nova, we're sorry…" _

She glanced up, to where her six Pokémon were staring at her. Riley was stumbling towards her, frowning.

"That was quick," he said. "One second, you were dragged in. Then Rhys and Tatiana came out, and then Rhys went back in, and you came out. All in a second."

_A second? _

It had been minutes. Hours, maybe. But certainly not _seconds_.

"…_time doesn't pass normally in the distortion world…" _

"And where is Byron?" Riley asked.

Nova turned sharply towards Rhys. There were tears in her eyes, shivers down her arms as she shook her head. "Rhys, you bastard, why did you…"

Rhys bowed his head sadly. His own eyes were brimming with worry, with concern, but with relief.

Because he and Darkrai had known that she wouldn't have left Byron.

And they wanted her alive.

Rhys nudged her slightly with his head. Nova touched his fur, took in the worry, the concern, the fear.

Of all her Pokémon, to see _Rhys _looking at her like that…

Nova threw her arms around him and cried.

"Oh, Rhys," she said through her sobs. "He's gone. _Gone_."

She stayed there, her Pokémon leaning close, Riley pressing a soft hand against her back.

Gone.

_Gone. _

* * *

**Will our girl ever catch a break? Probably not. Poor Nova. I love her, though. **

**No, in Pokémon Diamond, there was no Distortion World but... there was also no swords or gladiators. So I decided to have fun and include this. The plates are, in fact, important (now that they are eighteen of them), but less so for this story and more so for crossover stuff. Btu they'll still probably make an appearance! Probably. **


	48. Chapter XLVI

**Chapter XLVI**

Nova and Sir Riley had travelled back to Canalave in near silence.

There were millions of words between them. Both of them had lost Byron – a father and a mentor. Both of them were clasping onto each other, their backs and hearts still aching with every step. Both of them still had no idea who had poisoned Bebe and Maylene, who had tried killing Nova and gotten Riley punished for it.

All they knew was that it was one person – and that person worked for the Galactic Healers.

A few people in Canalave, at the sight of Sir Riley and Nova, had gasped and called out. Even then, Nova wasn't quite done – she urged for all six of her Pokémon to find every lad and lass they could and drag them to her. Then, with a last squeeze of Riley's hand, Nova stumbled, stood outside Lord Byron's mansion and waited.

It didn't take long for all the townsfolk to surround her, staring down at her shadow, at Riley, at her. Whispering. Gossiping. Waiting.

"Riley is innocent," Nova told them all. Her voice was still raspy from crying, from screaming, but still her words carried themselves across all of Canalave. "He did not poison the legionaries. That was shitty thinking on my behalf. Even Darkrai had warned me not to trust what he found. I've already apologised to Darkrai and Riley, and now, I would like to apologise to all of you. Your Knight on High…"

She paused, finding his eyes in the front of the crowd, his weight supported by Tric.

And even though she felt like falling on her knees, though she wanted to rip through the ground with her bare hands to claw her way to some other bloody Distortion World, she just stared at those blue eyes. Her lifeline. Her hope.

"Your Knight on High is as wonderful and kind as ever," she finally finished. "You are very lucky to have him."

"…_giving him a bit too much credit, don't you think?..." _

Nova ignored her shadow.

"We still don't know who did the poisoning," she continued. "But, whoever it was, they are working for a bunch of folk called the Galactic Healers. They are trying to make a spell, and it takes five dead legionaries to complete it. I think their plan had been to poison all the legionaries at my father's party so they could complete the spell."

"How do we know it wasn't you who did it?" someone called out. "Aren't _you _the Daughter of Nightmares?"

She winced at that one, but, with a curt nod, said, "They tried to kill me, too, lass. They tried to kill both me _and _Riley."

"But—"

"It's true," Riley cut in. He stepped away from the crowd and pushed himself away from Tric. Then reaching for Nova and finding her hand, he said, "Everything she speaks is true. And we also have more news. News about Lord Byron. He…"

The Knight on High trailed off, and Nova caught the break of his voice, the shudder of his shoulders.

He was trying to be brave. He was trying to fight off his tears.

And, like any strong king, he did exactly that.

"Lord Byron is sealed in the Distortion World," he said. Quietly. Calmly.

"You did it, wench!" another voice screeched, gesturing madly towards Nova. "You did it! You even burnt down Fantina's ballroom!"

Nova didn't bother defending herself.

Because she _had _done it, had she not? If she hadn't accused Riley in the first place, none of it would have happened. The whippings, the Distortion World, losing Byron…

"Oi!" another voice called out. "Who're you callin' a wench? Call me best friend a wench again, and I'll bloody—"

Barry's voice dragged Nova back to the present. To the people. To the mansion behind her.

"Please, everyone," Riley was saying. "November saved my life. She got whipped _for _me. And, for that, Sinnoh owes her."

There was a moment of silence as the townsfolk took in the words. Even Barry and Joy went still.

"You don't know what happened between Fantina and November," the knight continued. "What you _do _need to know is that this lass saved me, and she tried so hard to save Byron and Maylene. Candice and Wake may have been dead if it weren't for her."

"And she helped protect the ruins in Celestic," Joy quickly added, her voice ringing through the crowd. "I was there. She is also the one who brought the flowers back to Floaroma."

The healer's face flushed for a second as all eyes turned on her. But, even then, the pink-haired girl didn't back down. She just frowned and shook her head.

"She's the gladiator you've all been bloody cheering for when she's out there killing other folk," Joy pointed out. "How come, when you think she's killed one more person, she's suddenly lost your respect? What makes legionaries any different from regular folk? We all bleed fucking red, don't we?"

Nova smiled at that. She even managed to mouth the words _Joy, language_.

No one else was smiling. They were just whispering and murmuring, their voices a harsh ripple, their words ragged and sharp.

And Nova finally sighed and found Bailey the Staraptor. Gave him a nod.

"I have one more thing to say," Nova suddenly said. "That girl there who just spoke – her name is Joy. _She _is the one who saved Wake and Candice. _She's _the one who made the cure. _She's _the one you should all be thanking."

In that second, Bailey swooped down and grabbed Joy by the shoulders. Raised her in the air.

"Well?" Nova demanded. "What're you waiting for?"

Barry was the first to scream out Joy's name. Then, though it took some time, came the other cries – bursts of life, of hope, of songs for the healer who had saved their legionaries. It took them a while, but eventually, they all marched around Canalave, following the Staraptor and the healer who was flushed a bright shade of crimson.

Celebrating Joy. Celebrating _life_.

Nova leaned against Riley as Bailey led the crowd around Canalave.

"What now?" he asked her.

"I'm going to my father's home."

"I'll give you some privacy, then."

The gladiator shook her head, though.

"No. I need you there."

* * *

When Nova walked through Byron's home, she didn't see the long marble counters that stretched across the kitchens. She didn't see the polished floors, the velvety settees, the painted walls, the spiralling staircase. The big, plush beds, the gold-rimmed balconies, the dangling chandeliers – her eyes went right over those.

Because all she could see was Byron's spirit, sleeping in the walls, wafting from the wood. She could see what _could _have been – a little girl whose mother had not been pushed down the stairs, who was hugging and laughing and reading to a man that actually loved her. It echoed after her no matter where she went, and, by the end, she found herself pressing a hand against a wall and fighting for her breath.

"Are you okay?" Riley asked her. All her Pokémon except for Bailey were right behind him, watching her quietly.

Nova nodded. "I'm just… thinking of simpler times."

"I can't imagine anything is simple when it comes to you."

"Nay. Neither can I."

She glanced up at him. They were just by the spiralling staircase – not unlike the one Fantina had, the one that had been her mother's doom. Maybe that was why it hurt to be there, why it hurt to breathe and move and look at herself in the mirrors splayed across the walls.

But she just stared and stared at Riley. His kind face. His warm smile.

And she found herself smiling back despite herself.

"Can you folk go and do something else for a bit?" Nova asked her Pokémon. "I want to talk to Riley for a bit. Alone."

They all scowled, except for Leila, who squealed. Then, they trudged down the stairs and slipped out of the room.

"I see you, Tric! Stop spying!"

Another long, dramatic sigh. Then, Nova finally stopped smelling the smoke that lingered with the Infernape.

"And you, Darkrai. That includes you."

"…_well. that's rather impolite…" _

"Please?"

Darkrai snorted.

"…_no need to beg. i have no intention of seeing what trouble you two get into…" _

"Just go, will ya?"

With a sigh that was longer and more dramatic than Tric's, Nova found herself without a shadow.

"Interesting company you keep," Riley noted. He leaned against the railing, glancing down at the dirt that trailed down the stairs from the Pokémon's footsteps.

"Interesting, indeed," Nova agreed, moving over to join him. "Riley, I'm really sorry. I'm really, _really _sorry."

"You don't need to be—"

"I do!" Nova cut in. "Because I should have known. I should have remembered your blood oath, and even if that _hadn't _happened, I should have trusted you."

Riley only shrugged. "Maybe you just don't trust me."

"I _do _trust you."

"I lied to you about my name for—"

"Aye, aye," Nova said, rolling her eyes. "But, here's the thing: I'm fucking in love with you. And I should have _known_."

"Well, maybe—" He froze suddenly, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. "Wait. You love me?"

Nova snorted. "You're a fool if you just realised that now."

"Then consider me a fool. Come here."

He grabbed her hand and yanked her into his arms, letting her breathe in his warmth, his trust, his safety. And she sank right in, her throat tight, her heart hurting and yet fluttering all at once.

"Thank you for loving me despite everything," she whispered.

He only held her tighter. "And thank you for saving me."

"Aren't you the one who saved me on my thirteenth birthday?"

She never gave him the chance to answer. For, in that second, she pulled away and narrowed her eyes.

"When you look at me, is that who you see?" she asked quietly. "Do you see that girl you saved five years ago?"

Riley stared at her for a long time. Thinking.

Then, with a shake of his head, he touched her shoulder and spun her around so that they were looking at one of those ridiculously shiny mirrors against the wall.

From behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, letting her lean back against him.

"Five years ago, I saved a girl in Twinleaf," he said. "But then, I came home and found my sister and mother dead. After that, I forgot all about that girl. I only remembered her at the Veilstone inns, when she told everyone about her thirteenth birthday."

It was a relief to hear, Nova realised. From the moment she had learnt about his _real _name, it was all she had been able to think about – had he fallen in love with _her_, or the girl he had saved years ago?

"Even now, I wish I could find those knights," Riley added. "I wish they could see you now. If they saw November now…"

"They'd probably have their head chewed off by Rhys before they could see anything," Nova pointed out.

Riley chuckled. "Aye. But in that second before Rhys chewed off their heads, they would see what I see."

He leaned closer, his breath impossibly hot against her cheek.

"They would see someone who stands up for what she believes in," he whispered. "Someone who doesn't give a damn about the rules or the odds. Someone who could rip their heads off with her bare hands."

"For a piece of shit, you really know how to flatter a girl."

He pushed her away at the sight of her wicked grin.

"What are you planning on changing your name to, anyways?" he asked.

"How does Lucas sound to you?"

"Oh, piss off."

Nova laughed. "What do _you _think I should change it to?"

"I quite like November, if I'm honest," Riley answered with a shrug. "I don't think you should let those knights change who you are. But, it's your name. Your choice."

She waved away his words. That was _not _what she wanted to think about just yet.

"Tell me about Cynthia," she said.

"What about her?"

"She obviously asked you to marry her for _some _reason. Were you this nice to her, too?"

Riley didn't even have to think about it. He just frowned. "In truth, no. I just followed her orders. I don't think I ever said anything to her except for _Yes, Your Majesty_."

"Maybe she liked yer face, then."

"Oh, please."

"You _do _have a nice face."

Riley arched his brow. "What's this? Nova saying something nice to me instead of calling me a piece of shit? What did the Distortion World do to you?"

He had to back away when she reached out to punch him. Just when he thought she would push him down the stairs, though, the gladiator nodded slowly.

"I think Queen Cynthia knew she was going away," she said thoughtfully. "And she knew she may never come back. So, she chose someone who would make a good king to propose to – just so that Sinnoh had a good leader if she never came back. And she chose the best."

Riley was silent for a long minute. Then, bowing his head, he closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Nova. I mean it."

"Oh, stop being a sop and get yer arse over here."

And, before he could properly step towards her, she stood on her toes and kissed him.

It wasn't like a gentle kiss of lovers on their first night together, nor was it the kiss of two people driven by fiery desire.

No.

She kissed him with desperation – with _longing. _As if she was a dying woman who believed that the magic of his lips against hers, his hands on her waist, his hair in her hands, would give her eternal life.

She knew he wouldn't kiss her back. He was too noble for that – too committed to ending things with Cynthia first.

So, when he sighed against her mouth, she almost jerked back in surprise.

"Just this once," he whispered, more to himself than her. "Just this once."

Then, his lips were on hers, the warmth crawling down from her mouth to her chest to her stomach.

It was like time was stopping. It was like everything that had gone wrong – the whippings, the Distortion World, the poisoning, the Galactic Healers – were all gone.

Because all she felt was the kiss. His touch. His _love_.

And, after eighteen long and agonising years, Nova finally felt it – felt what it was like to feel completely, utterly safe.

She didn't feel empty or cold when they finally parted. Instead, with her hands still around him, she felt more complete than ever before.

"You're my favourite piece of shit in all of Sinnoh," she told him.

His brow shot up. "Does that mean there may be a lover outside of Sinnoh?"

"Aye. Yer mother."

"Don't talk shit about my mother!"

* * *

_And try and try and try…_

Nova stared at the dining chambers in Byron's home for a long time. She wished her half-brother was there with her, to at least help her make some sense of it all. Maybe she would offer _him _the mansion – after all, he was Byron's son, too.

But all the legionaries that were alive had gone back to their homes. Even Riley had left her to go and reassure townsfolk, check in on Barry and his Pokémon.

So, Nova just stared at the walls that stretched on endlessly. The creaking wood.

_And try and try and try… _

Those had been Byron's final words to her. Just after he had gifted his entire bloody mansion to her, even though girls weren't even _supposed _to own estates.

She didn't know what to make of it, still.

All she knew was that it would become a library. _She _would help it become a library. Not just for her father, but also for Bebe and all the little girls out there who wanted to learn how to read.

Footsteps echoed behind her, and Nova whirled around to find Duke Rowan facing her. His eyes were puffy and red, surrounded by dark circles, but he still forced a strained smile.

"I'm sorry about your son," Nova said to him softly.

He nodded. "And I'm sorry about your father."

"As am I." She looked over at the walls, imagining the books that would be laid across shelves, that would be full of wonder and knowledge and dreams. "I was wrong about him, you know. He was a good lad."

"He was. He may have been a stupid lad, aye, but he was noble." Duke Rowan took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. "Even when he fell in love with your mother, he instantly told his wife and left her."

Nova felt her own breath leave her at those words.

All along, she had been so, utterly wrong. Stupid. Unthinking. Not even pausing to consider that he may not have been the one who had pushed Vernia down the stairs.

"He saved me," she told her grandfather. "He's the reason I'm here. Even though I treated him like absolute shit."

Rowan smiled grimly at that. "He may only have known you for a few days, but he loved you."

"I can't possibly understand why."

"It's because you're family, November. You're part of our _family_."

And, to her absolute shock, the old man whose movements were usually so stiff and demanding gave her a hug.

_Go and win back our throne. _

_And try and try and try…_

_Aye? _

And Nova hugged him back.

* * *

Night had come quicker than ever, and no one could rest. Riley and Barry were off somewhere, sparring. Joy was tending to a small girl who had coughed up something yellow, reassuring her that it was not piss. Nova's Pokémon, too, were fighting over who would sleep in which room in Byron's mansion.

But Nova sat on the stairs, leaning back and thinking.

Only when Leila came in did she glance away from the chandelier. The Roserade had brought a book with her, clutching it between the roses that were her hands.

Then, she perched herself onto Nova's knee and held the book out for Nova.

"Leila, you know I can't bloody read."

Leila shook her head and, using a vine, pried the book open.

There were paintings, Nova realised. Paintings of little girls and boys in dresses and suits, of Pokémon and crowns, of colourful hair and long swords. Beneath the paintings, there were words scribbled in ink.

"Oh," Nova said softly. "Books can have pictures?"

She squinted down at the words, trying and trying to make sense of it. But, beyond recognising a single letter that she thought may have been a _b_, she couldn't make anything of it.

Leila pointed at the pictures again, and Nova sighed.

"Fine. I suppose I'll make up a story based on the pictures."

She looked down at the first painting. It was of a little girl, wearing a little crown.

Nova wrapped an arm around Leila and began to make up her own story.

"Once upon a time, there was a little princess who loved her kingdom very much…"

* * *

**Again, breather chapter after last chapter's chaos and hell. I think we all needed it. Plus! Like I like to say, I want this story to sort of foreshadow the game that we all know and love. In this example, we have Nova basically telling us that Byron's mansion becomes the Canalave library, which, by the way, is when Galactic stuff starts to happen-**

**Oh my. I've said too much again. **

**Or have I? **


	49. Chapter XLVII

**Chapter XLVII**

Nova wasn't quite sure what her Pokémon were plotting.

First, there was Leila demanding that they go through a countless number of books.

Now, there was Bailey, waking her up by pecking at her hand gently before insisting they go for a fly. And, by Arceus, when Bailey spread his dark wings and leaped out – leaped _up—_

It was different. There was no destination.

Nova's stomach shot straight up her throat. Her eyes watered and blurred.

Wind tore at her, trying to rip her from Bailey's back, and she clenched onto him so tight that her hands ached as the Darkrai chuckled in her ear.

But the pale mountains of Coronet loomed up, brown and burning orange in the early dawn, rushing to meet them as Bailey dove and dove, a star falling from above—

Nova was glad she hadn't had breakfast. It would have come spewing out of her mouth from all the spinning and twirling. Within the span of a few beats of his wings, the Staraptor banked right – towards the horizon that was flushing itself pink.

The sprawl of Sinnoh spread before them, smaller and smaller as they rose into the skies. Until it was no more than a cobblestoned road beneath them, spreading into sand and snow. Until she could spy the emerald groves and wheat fields just near Eterna. The rippling dunes of the Twinleaf sand. The sparkling, snaking band of rivers turning golden in the rising sun that crested over Mount Coronet.

Nova did not speak. Did not point out the little towns.

In the rising light, she let her Staraptor take her floating higher still, the air turning crisp.

So much control in his wings. So much confidence. Confidence that had never been there before.

And Sinnoh was so open – surrounded by an endless sea. The sun and scrub and undulating grasslands near Solaceon. The lush jungles and rice fields near Floaroma. An entire world.

Her land.

Her home.

"…_you are quiet…" _

"I don't have words."

Bailey squawked, feigning shock. Nova ruffled his head.

"I don't understand how you can bring yourself to come down," she told the Staraptor. "If I could fly, I would never leave the sky."

But Bailey made a small sound. And though she couldn't have been sure, the gladiator could make a damned good guess what he was telling her.

_He came down for her. _

Because she had taken him as part of her team – broken and all. Because she had known what it was like to be broken, to be left behind for being broken.

And now, he was returning the favour by showing her the world.

"I always call you my champions," she said. "But I think it's time I start calling you my friends, nay?"

Bailey squawked in what she hoped was agreement.

"And I'm sorry for being a smunt."

"…_you're not a smunt…" _

"No?"

"…_but you certainly are difficult…"_

Nova grinned at that. "Says the shadow that keeps asking for a whole freaking island—"

She froze as the world shook.

From where she rested atop her Staraptor, she didn't feel it. But she could _see _it – the crumbling rocks spilling down from Coronet, the screaming people that darted from their homes, the rippling of the three lakes across Sinnoh.

And, when things couldn't possibly get stranger, she felt that familiar coldness seep into her blood.

And she _saw_.

It was short. Quick.

She saw the three lake spirits – Azelf, Mespirit and Uxie – watching her eat pie.

She saw snow. Sand. Grass.

She saw Azelf, bruised and battered as a man in a Murkrow mask dragged it by the chains.

She saw Barry, shaking as he waded through snow.

She saw Twinleaf, no longer surrounded by sand, but surrounded by water. Water that slammed into windows, that flushed out of doors.

She saw her own house, torn apart by a flood.

And, the second she snapped out of the visions, she leaned close to Bailey.

"Canalave. _Now_."

* * *

Lucas and Barry had been waiting for her, surrounded by her Pokémon. Byron's mansion had been fine – it seemed that the only towns affected by the earthquakes had been Snowpoint and Twinleaf, with slight rumbles in Veilstone, Sunnyshore and Pastoria.

Both of them had woken up to pain. Sharp, piercing pain that hurt with every beat of their heart.

As they explained it to her, Nova just nodded.

Because she knew exactly what they were talking about. She felt the pain herself, ringing through her every vein.

And so, when Barry was done moaning about his sore head, Nova reached out and held their hands.

"I need to tell you both the truth about Meryl, Ulysses and their Abra."

* * *

Poor Rowan hadn't even pulled himself out of bed when Nova, Riley and Barry stormed into his room. He just sat up and stared at them, his fingers curled around his blankets, squinting his eyes as he rode it up his waist.

"What in Arceus—"

"Azelf, Mespirit and Uxie are in trouble," Nova cut in. "We know. We _know_."

Rowan stared at his granddaughter for a long moment. Then, with a sharp breath, he understood.

"Who felt the pain?" he asked.

"All three of us."

"Where?"

Riley was the first to answer this time. He pointed at his chest, murmuring, "Here."

"Mine is in me bloody head," Barry chimed in. "Even Joy couldn't smooch it better."

"Joy?" Nova suddenly said. "What was Joy doing in yer room?"

"What do people usually do when they share a bedroom with a pretty healer, Nova?"

Nova's eyes went wide. "Barry, did you—"

"She bandaged me bloody scrapes. Arceus, Nova, get yer head out of there."

But Rowan had no time for Barry's smug grin or Riley's sigh. The duke just stared at his granddaughter.

"Where did you feel the pain, November?" he asked her.

Nova could _still _feel the pain. In her fingers, in her toes, in her arms and legs and—

"Everywhere," she answered softly. "Everywhere."

Rowan swore.

"We need to save them," he said.

"Where do we go first?" Barry asked.

Riley surveyed his two friends with a quick sweep of his gaze. "I say we split up. Three of us, three of them. We'll be quicker. If the Galactic Healers take them…"

"Aye, sounds smart," Nova agreed quickly. "We'll split up. One to Lake Verity, one to Valour, and one to the other-"

"Who will go where?" Barry cut in.

"Well, you and I are from Twinleaf," Nova pointed out. "It makes sense if—"

"No," Rowan interrupted, a hand in the air, throwing off his blankets and reaching for his britches. "All three of you know where to go. And it's not necessarily where you hail from."

* * *

As it turned out, neither Barry nor Nova went to Lake Verity.

Instead, it was Riley who had felt his heart tug himself towards Twinleaf. Barry, on the other hand, felt drawn to Mount Coronet – to the snow that awaited beyond. Meanwhile, Nova found herself racing towards Lake Valour, Owl the Gastrodon not far behind her as they tore through the Galactic Healers.

It felt so wrong hearing the ringing of metal on metal, especially with the green and earthy scent around her, the voices of pirates performing a play not too far away. It felt so wrong to watch her Gastrodon throw bombs of mud at people in masks, sending them slipping and crashing to the ground even though the breeze was but a gentle sigh.

Nova kicked – a fast flurry of kicks – her cries shrill as she shoved past another healer. The grass beneath her was scorched, its edges curled and blackened, Murkrows circling above her as she ran through the verdant stalks.

Screams echoed around her as she smashed the hilt of her blade into every Galactic Healer she could find. One was already sprawled on the ground, groaning, and in the next second, another was bleeding by her boots on the soft dirt.

Quick. Ruthless. Cold.

Because one of those healers had killed Bebe. Maylene.

One of those healers had nearly killed her. Riley.

And Byron…

All around her, Pokémon fired darts of poison and fire, while the healers shot arrows. But Owl stayed behind Nova, throwing waves of water high in the air, using it as a shimmering shield to wash away the weapons.

One by one, she knocked them down – careful not to kill. With all the strength she had, she threw another kick, sending a man flying onto the dirt.

But that all stopped when she felt the pain again.

Oh, Arceus, it was _agonising. _It struck her like lightning, and she could barely breathe as she blocked another blow, shoved another man back. Like a biting edge of black, it spun around her, crawling into her skin, hurting and hurting and _hurting_—

Breath gone. Head spinning. Owl hovering over her collapsed body, hissing at anyone who stepped near.

Someone rushed towards Nova, knife raised, their Murkrow mask as dark as their eyes. But, before he could even sweep his blade into the Gastrodon, something leapt towards him and struck him in the gut – sharp and fast.

A Toxicroak.

_Saturn's _Toxicroak.

The blue-haired boy strolled behind his Toxicroak, his face hidden behind his mask. And, in his hands, bleeding and curled up…

The pain felt sharper as Nova's eyes found the Azelf.

Saturn was holding up his board to the healers that had surrounded Nova, the chalk creating stark lines and curls as he wrote.

"What did he write?" Nova asked Darkrai as Owl moved closer to her.

"…_he said they have been given orders not to hurt you…" _

"Oh."

The Galactic Healers, the few of them still standing, scowled at Saturn and his board.

"The boss never said to spare some wench!" one of them spat. "Cyrus said to destroy anyone who was in our way!"

Saturn rubbed at his board and wrote something again. And, before he even raised it in the air, Darkrai's whisper slipped into both Nova and her Gastrodon's ears.

"…_he says the boss hasn't told them everything…" _

Nova didn't say anything. She just brought herself up to a crouch, watching with narrowed eyes as Saturn passed the chained Azelf to another healer and moved towards her. He wrote something on his board again, tilting it for her to read.

"…_he's asking if you feel the pain…" _

"No," Nova told Saturn. "I don't feel any pain."

Saturn arched his brow. Doubtful.

"I just had my back whipped a few days ago, _and _I'm a freaking gladiator," Nova snapped. "Of course I'm going to be in pain every now and then."

Saturn scoffed at that. Wrote big, sharp letters on his board.

"…_he called you a liar…" _

Then, he gestured at the healers, ushering them away. And, as they left, as the pain continued to pulse through Nova and keep her curled on the ground, she managed to give one last, long look towards Azelf.

"I'm sorry, little one," she said.

And, with a little whimper, the first lake spirit was taken.

* * *

Nova sat down by Lake Valour, staring at the sweeps of blue water that her feet were dipped in. Owl let her lean on her, even though they both knew that, with the Azelf out of sight, the pain wasn't nearly as bad. It was just a mere echo of what it was, thrumming gently with every inhale and exhale.

"It hurts less now that Azelf is gone," Nova said with a sigh.

"…_well, that doesn't mean he's not in pain…"_

"Thanks. You know how to make a lass feel better, Darkrai."

"…_so i've been told…" _

She didn't feel fear as someone came and sat beside her. In fact, she didn't feel _anything _as she turned to face Saturn sharply.

There was so much happening – too much. And she was losing track of all of it.

Cyrus needed the three lake spirits. Because she had failed, he already had one.

He needed five dead legionaries. Which meant there was more death to come.

"I hope you find all of this worth it," Nova said to the silent boy beside her.

Saturn pointed at her. Raised two fingers.

Nova understood, but said nothing.

Then, Saturn began to draw on the dirt with his fingers. It was a few sticks connected together – arms, legs, body and all. But, instead of drawing a head, Saturn searched for a small scratch on his palm – one that had probably come from fighting Azelf – and had splattered his blood onto the figure's head.

Nova stared at the drawing, head cocked to one side.

"Someone with a bloody head."

Saturn shook his head.

"Someone with no head?"

"…_have you always been this terrible at games?..." _

"Please. Like you're any better," Nova shot back towards her shadow, ignoring Saturn's quizzical gaze.

"…_if i win, what do i get?..." _

Nova snorted. "What do you want?"

"…_an island would be nice…" _

Saturn reached out and shook Nova by the shoulder. Pointed impatiently at the dirt, at the drawing on the dirt. Scowled.

Nova squinted at it. There was a head. Body. Arms. Legs. Well, one leg. The other seemed a bit shorter, really, and the red splatter over its head—

"Mars?"

Saturn nodded eagerly. Then, he was drawing again. This time, he did a little, wavery little circle beside Mars' feet.

"A puddle of piss?"

A shake of his head.

"A puddle of ale?"

Another shake of his head. Even Owl shook her head at that.

"…_a lake…" _

This time, the words came from Darkrai, and he slipped out of Nova's shadow as he spoke. Saturn's eyes went wide – full of panic and fear – but he held his ground and nodded.

"A lake?" Nova repeated, her feet splashing at the water. "Seriously? Why didn't you just point at this blasted lake?"

But Saturn wasn't listening. He was drawing in the mud again, doing little squares and triangles.

"Houses next to the lake."

He nodded. Pointed at Nova.

"Houses next to… me? Houses… Me, house… Twinleaf? Lake Verity?"

Another nod. And this time, Saturn pointed again at the drawing of Mars.

"And Mars is there."

Then, Saturn did something horrendous.

He scooped water from the lake into his hands and threw it onto the mud. It slapped onto his drawings, washing them away, turning the houses into thin lines and sludge.

"…_oh my…" _

"What?" Nova demanded.

"…_have you seriously always been this bad at games?..." _

Nova scowled. She thought and thought, staring at Saturn's pitiful gaze, the ruined drawings of Twinleaf, the blood that was supposed to be Mars' hair.

Then, Owl reached out. Looked at her gladiator straight in the eye.

And Nova felt her heart stop.

"Mars wants to wipe out Twinleaf?"

Saturn nodded, exasperated, before standing on his feet to leave. Nova felt her face turn pale as she watched the Galactic Healer slip away from the lakes.

"Bullshit," she said quietly. "Cyrus promised that there would be no harm to anyone but the five legionaries. He—"

"…_his promises mean nothing, nova. once time is changed, none of it matters…" _

"Do you believe him, Darkrai? Do you?"

She didn't need to hear his answer.

Because then, she remembered the vision – the one she had just that morning when she was flying with Bailey.

_She saw Twinleaf, no longer surrounded by sand, but surrounded by water. Water that slammed into windows, that flushed out of doors. _

_She saw her own house, torn apart by a flood. _

Nova swore.

Riley was there. Her _mother _was there.

She turned to Darkrai, fear clinging to her as he watched her.

"He's right, isn't he?"

Owl made a small sound as she reached for Nova. Darkrai only gave them both a pitiful stare.

"…_if i'm right, will you give me an island?…"_

* * *

**Someone give him an island already, I swear-**

**Hope you enjoyed! Now we're really getting into the crux of it. Also, last week has been super busy and hellish, but I will catch up to responding to reviews tomorrow. (: **


	50. Chapter XLVIII

**Chapter XLVIII**

Instead of mounts of silver swords and poles and cudgels, Lake Verity had lumps of gold sticking out from the stretch of water. Golden trinkets, golden necklaces, golden coins. It bled the water into a light shade of gold, bright as a summer field but as still as Nova's heart as she glanced around her.

Riley's Pokémon had slaughtered the Galactic Healers. There was a thin layer of bodies along the ground, all bleeding and battered, the ground cracked beneath them from the raw power that was his Torterra, the grass charred from Lucario's blows. Even Bailey, Tric and Rhys, the only Pokémon that had been quick enough to join Nova, found themselves without breath as they felt the strength, the rage, the _fire _in the knight's Pokémon.

But there was one survivor.

Mars was holding onto Mespirit, who was already bound in chains, rolling her eyes as she stepped over her own healers. And as the lake spirit moaned softly, Riley sank to his knees, clutching at his heart and wincing as Duke Rowan held him up.

Neither his Lucario nor his Torterra moved. For, if they hurt Mars, they risked hurting the Mespirit.

And if they hurt Mespirit…

Riley's grunts were louder than Nova's heartbeat as she stepped forward.

"Our leader's son is the heart of gold…" Mars was saying, scoffing down at the knight, pinching the Mespirit and laughing as Riley gasped sharply. "Impressive…"

"Stop hurting him," Nova called out.

In a flash, all eyes were on her. Even Riley, with pain swimming in his eyes, glanced over at her pleadingly.

"Nova," he whispered. "Save Mespirit. Please."

Mars scowled at that. "Come near Mespirit, and I'll make both the Mespirit _and _your boy suffer."

Upon hearing that, Nova froze.

"Good lass," Mars said. "Drop the sword on the ground."

"You know I won't hurt you," Nova pointed out. "I promised—"

"Drop it, _and _ask your knight to return his Pokémon."

Nova didn't need to ask. Already, with a sigh, Riley tore his Pokéballs from his belt and let the nets envelop his Torterra and Lucario.

"Good," Mars said curtly, tightening her grip around the Mespirit. "Let's go."

"Wait," Nova cut in.

"What?"

Nova took a step forwards, moving around Riley and Rowan, desperately trying to ignore the stale and clogging smell of blood and death as she moved over the bodies.

"Saturn told me you were going to flood Twinleaf," Nova said.

"I knew he was a softie," Mars said with a sigh.

"Is it true?"

Mars didn't have to answer. For, in that second, another man in a Murkrow mask darted up to them.

"Mars, the Bronzongs are ready. Let's go."

Mars grinned at that, and Nova arched her brow.

"The Bronzongs?" she repeated.

"…_nova, run…"_

"What?"

Her shadow's voice was more urgent than ever before, was more desperate as it reached into her ears.

"…_they're beneath the lake. i feel it…" _

"So? What does it matter if a bunch of Bronzongs want a good ol' swim?"

But Riley had heard her words. And he and Duke Rowan exchanged a wide-eyed glance.

"Bronzongs can explode," Rowan hissed. "And if they're under the water…"

Nova was sure that her heart had stopped.

Oh, shit.

_Oh, shit._

"Why?" she hissed at Mars. "_Why_?"

"I'm doing this for _you_," the Galactic Healer snapped. "For _us_."

"Why do you bloody think that flooding my fucking _home _is what I want?"

Mars' brow shot up. "Listen to me, November. Think about it. Places like Twinleaf shouldn't _exist_. There shouldn't be a place to dump all the crips."

"Then—"

"If we get rid of the place, it forces everyone else – nobles and all – to live _with _the crips. _That's _what you want, isn't it?"

Nova didn't know what to say.

It was a good point. It was _such _a good point.

And yet, it felt wrong. Twinleaf was her home. Twinleaf was where she grew up.

She couldn't watch it flood. She _wouldn't. _

And the _people_—

"The people," Nova gasped out. "If you flood the place, they'll all die—"

"Then it's a good thing that I'm giving you a few minutes to evacuate them all," Mars shot back.

Nova turned towards Riley and Duke Rowan, her face mottled red, her blood as cold as ice.

"We have to get them out of there," she said.

Rowan nodded curtly. "There's higher ground near Sandgem—"

"Go there right now. I'll evacuate them and send them to you. Tric, go with him."

In an instant, the older man was on his feet and running, an Infernape bounding just ahead of him. Nova crouched down towards Riley, squeezing his shoulders, staring at him in the eye.

"Mespirit…" he whispered.

Nova shook her head. "You have to trust me."

For a moment, he looked startled. Confused, even, as she pressed her lips gently against his head. Then, when she leapt up and began to rush towards Twinleaf, the confusion only turned into panic. Into distress.

Because Mars was moving towards him.

"You're coming with me, heart of gold," she said, yanking at his collar.

And though Nova was running, her Luxray just behind her, she heard Riley call out for her. She heard him groan as Mars knocked him unconscious with the hilt of her blade.

Bailey paused, making a low caw. Wanting to turn back.

But Nova shook her head.

"Trust me."

And, just like that, she had lost both the second lake spirit and the heart of gold.

* * *

She knew Twinleaf even _better _than the back of her own hand.

And so, she ran, first yanking people out of the pile of waste and demanding they instantly run towards Sandgem if they could. If they couldn't, she shoved them towards someone who _could _run and asked them to help them – whether they knew them or not.

Then, she went into each and every house. She slammed open doors, tossing clothes at anyone who was naked and chasing them out despite their protests. A few recognised her – welcomed her with open arms. A few didn't, and hissed when she dragged them by the elbows and forced them to trek towards Sandgem.

She could still remember the felled bodies of the Galactic Healers near Lake Verity. So many dead and wounded. A sea of them, reeking of blood.

But she couldn't go back and check who was alive. There was no time – at any second, the Bronzong would explode and send the lake churning up.

Except, when she reached the last house, she nearly cried out.

Barry's mother was lying on the floor, blood dribbling from her temple as she raised herself into a crawl.

"What happened?" Nova instantly demanded, racing to her side, easing her onto her feet.

Barry's adoptive mother took a long look at November, at the Luxray and Staraptor that hovered outside the door.

"Someone came…" she sobbed out. "Someone… came… shoved us hard…"

"Who?"

"I don't know," the woman answered. She reached forwards, clutching Nova tightly by the wrists, tears in her eyes. "Oh, Nova, he was saying all these awful things about revenge. I didn't know who it was, and he took Vernia and…"

Nova's face went pale.

Her killer. Bebe's killer. Maylene's killer.

He was after her mother.

"…_i will search…" _

With Darkrai leaving her without a shadow, Nova felt the fear. The terror. Clinging onto her every limb, her every breath, her every heartbeat.

But she couldn't think of it now. Not yet.

Nova stood and lifted the woman up. Then, heaving them both outside, she helped her mother's friend sit onto Bailey's back.

"Go," Nova told the Staraptor. "_Go_."

Bailey only hesitated for one second. Then, the Staraptor was off, flying towards Rowan with Barry's mother on his back.

Nova looked at Rhys. His tawny eyes scanned her, worry dancing there.

"We have to save her," she said, her voice broken. "We have to…"

"…_the wastes, nova. the wastes…"_

She whirled towards the wastes as Darkrai sank back into her feet, drinking up the fear. To that endless stretch of garbage and rotting bodies. So much dirt and grime. So many corpses, too, now that the Gladiator Games were back in season.

And though pain cracked at her heart with each step, she jumped onto Rhys's back.

She did not think. She did not reconsider. There was no time – no fear – to do that.

Nova planted her feet, legs screaming as she adjusted onto Rhys' back. Then, she leaned down and whispered, "To the wastes, Rhys."

With a low cry, Rhys plunged forwards.

The last few people that were escaping Twinleaf leaped out of their path, and Nova did not stop to apologise, did not stop for anyone, as she and the Luxray charged towards the wastes.

Luxray was a tempest beneath her, thundering through the winding paths, the crumbling homes.

"_Mother_!"

Nova's shout was swallowed by the wind, by the screams of the people who were getting closer and closer to Sandgem. She searched through every lump of garbage she passed for a hint of that shining black hair, that beautiful face. The field of rubbish stretched on forever, with gladiator bodies piled with them.

Rhys leaped over them, cutting sharp turns as Nova pivoted to look and look and look.

"_Mother_!"

She sounded so small. So feeble.

She _felt _so small. So feeble.

But the flood was coming. Any second now.

So she did not stop, did not look toward the doom that was Lake Verity waiting to be unleashed.

She rode, and rode, and rode.

"_Mother_!"

Her voice kept breaking with each cry. The bodies were a blur beneath her, around her. So many gladiators – some from Veilstone, from Pastoria, from _her _doing – lying there with their pale hands, their blank eyes.

Rhys, merciless as ever, trampled them into the sand, bones snapping and skulls cracking.

Vernia had to be out there. She had to be somewhere. Alive – hurt, maybe, but alive.

Nova knew it.

On and on they went, through the blood and sand and dirt.

"…_there…" _

Nova yanked on Rhys's fur, slowing him.

"Mother!" she screamed, so loud that her throat felt like it was bleeding. "_Mother_!"

A pained groan. One that made Nova glad that Darkrai, for _once_, had decided to help her.

A small, pale hand rose from beneath a thick pile of crumpled rags and cold stew.

Nova sobbed, and Rhys cantered towards that bloodied hand before skidding to a halt, gore flying from his paws. Nova threw herself from his back and scrambled towards her mother.

Dented armour and rusted blades lay around her, and Nova reached for the hand and _pulled_. The hand became an arm, then two – pushing higher, pushing up—

Nova tried not to fall onto her knees with relief.

Blood leaked from her mother's mouth, and she was bruised all along her jaw, but she was alive.

Oh, Arceus, she was _alive. _

But she did not hug her mother. She did not smile. She just said, "Lake Verity is about to flood."

Blood splatted Vernia's ashen face, her dark eyes fogged with pain. Nova braced her feet, swallowing her own scream of agony, and gripped her mother on the shoulders.

"Nova…"

"We need to go, Mother."

Vernia's breathing was a wet rasp as Nova tried to lift her. She may as well have been a boulder, may as well have been as immovable as a freaking _mountain_.

"Mother," she begged, her voice a whisper. "We have to _go_."

Finally, Vernia tried to shift, drawing an agonised groan as her legs refused to budge. Unable to rise.

"We're getting up, you hear me? We're getting _up_. And we're going to fucking dance with the winds."

As she said it, Nova beckoned for Rhys. He approached, steps unsteady over the garbage and corpses. He didn't even flinch as Vernia grasped his fur, one hand on her daughter's shoulder.

And, as Vernia began to rise, Nova ducked under her, manoeuvring those slender arms around her shoulders. Thighs burning, ankles shrieking, she pushed her mother _up_.

Vernia pulled at the same time, Rhys holding steady. The dancer groaned again, her body teetering—

"Don't stop," Nova hissed. "Don't you dare fucking stop."

Vernia's breath was a shallow gasp. She panted and panted, slipping her arm from Nova's shoulder, lurching to cling onto Rhys. In all truth, Nova wasn't sure if Rhys would even be able to lift them both out of Twinleaf.

She didn't dare think about it. With Darkrai eating away the terror and despair, she tried to push herself upwards and swing her own legs onto Rhys.

"Nova…" Vernia said through a cough. "We won't…"

"You're not dead, and I'm not dead," Nova snapped. "So stay on the Luxray and hang on."

Vernia's eyes were blurry with tears. "My dear, you have to let me go."

Nova's own eyes burned. With tears. With anger.

Those were the exact words Byron had told her in the Distortion World.

And he had made her leave him.

She had been so fucking _blessed_. She had two parents who loved her – who were ready to _die _to her, even after all the hell she had brought them.

And like hell would she lose them both.

"I love you, do you understand?" she hissed. "I am alive _because _of you. And we are both going to stay alive."

Vernia panted for another heartbeat. Nova positioned herself behind her, gripping the back of her mother's tunic, her stomach lurching as Rhys reared back and _ran. _

"To Sandgem, Rhys," she whispered. "To Sandgem. Faster than the wind."

Rhys, bless him, obeyed. Vernia rocked back into Nova as the Luxray launched forwards, all three of them wincing in pain, all of them praying as the pounding steps moved over the bodies and the dirt and the last whispers of her home.

Nova glanced back at the golden lake, hearing the rumble, hearing the hissing.

Soon. It would flood soon.

And Sandgem seemed so far. So, so far.

Every thunderous beat of Rhys's paws, over the corpses and the rotten berries, echoed Nova's silent prayer.

Not to Arceus. Not even to the shitting shadows.

She prayed to Dialga.

Hoping time would slow. Just for her mother.

But Vernia had other ideas.

"Fly, Rhys!" the mother cried. "Fly! _Fly!_"

Rhys did exactly that.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

He cleared through the Twinleaf Wastes, his mighty heart not faltering, his claws beginning to _bleed—_

But then came the thunderous, groaning crack that cleaved their ears. Echoing off the ground. The houses. The lake.

There was nothing Nova could do, nothing Vernia could do, nothing the bloody Luxray or Darkrai could do.

Because the Bronzongs exploded.

* * *

Duke Rowan was praying for his granddaughter, for the woman his son had loved, for the Luxray that was about to be wiped away with them. Barry's mother was whispering her own prayers – hoping that their deaths would be quick, that it would be painless.

A wall of water, one that seemed larger than Mount Coronet, flushed out of the lake. Rushed towards Twinleaf. Towards November.

"They're not going to make it," someone hissed, eyes on the two girls and the Luxray. So close – so bloody close, and yet, so far.

Duke Rowan made himself stand there to watch the last moments of the two women. It was all he could offer. A witness to their deaths, so he may tell the story to those around him – so they would never, ever be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave was deafening, and still, Nova and Vernia raced, passing house after house after house.

Even from Sandgem's ledge, Rowan couldn't have been sure they were safe from the wave's reach. He needed to usher them further, towards Jubilife perhaps, to set back into his role as a king and send all the people around him to safety.

But, when he turned, he realised that the Staraptor and Infernape that had been beside him were no longer there.

His heart halted. Simply stopped beating as dark wings dropped from the skies, spearing for the centre of Twinleaf.

Bailey the Staraptor. An Infernape dangling from his talons.

Tric. Tric was—

Bailey neared the ground, talons splaying. Tric hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until he uncoiled to his feet.

Right in the path of the wave.

"Oh, _shit_," Rowan breathed out.

An Infernape against an endless wall of water.

The sands began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear ripping through him as the Infernape lifted his arms above his head.

And a pillar of fire shot up around him, lifting the sands with it.

The wave roared and roared for him, for the Luxray and gladiator and dancer behind him.

But Tric held out a hand before him, his fist closed, his shadow even darker as a certain Pokémon slipped into it. As if his own flames would halt the wave in its tracks.

"Months," the duke whispered.

Everyone around Rowan stilled.

"For months, she's been going to Oreburgh at night," he said again. "Months. She's been making them find their power for _months_."

Every night. In the home that belonged to Frazer the Onix.

She had told him in Canalave .They hadn't sparred every night in Oreburgh. But she had practised. Forced her Pokémon to go deeper into their power. Together, searching for their full might. Not for the Gladiator Games, not for Cyrus.

But to protect those she loved.

And months of descent, of practise, of learning about _power_…

"Get _down_!" Rowan snapped. "Get down _now_!"

Everyone dropped to the stones. And Rowan watched as the wave crested towards the gladiator, towards the Infernape that opened his hand towards it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. Raging fire. A tidal wave of its own.

Taller than the waging waters, it blasted from Tric, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where the anger of someone met the love of someone else, the world erupted.

Blistering steam, hot enough to melt flesh, shot across Twinleaf.

And, when it was all over, where that lethal wave had once loomed, where death had charged towards them seconds ago, there remained nothing but a burnt plain. No sand, no garbage, nothing.

Just a Luxray riding through the mist, a dancer and gladiator sobbing on his back, an Infernape clinging onto November as she scolded it between her tears.

All of them alive.

Twinleaf nothing but a charred, barren land behind them.

* * *

Tric and Rhys had both collapsed from exhaustion. All her folks from Twinleaf, under Rowan and November's guide, had found rooms to settle into in Sandgem. Nova didn't even have to raise a dagger at the inn-keeper; one long, dirty look had been enough.

Now, with Owl the Gastrodon catching up and filling Lake Verity while Tatiana the Gabite watched, Nova and Leila stared at what had once been her home.

It was nothing but rubble now. Crushed by the water, then burnt down by fire.

Almost nothing had survived, which had been good and bad.

All the houses turned to ash? Bad.

All the rubbish and corpses gone, leaving nothing but specks of bone and steel? Good.

All the sand wiped away, leaving black and cracked stone beneath her boots?

Nova still wasn't sure how she felt about that one.

Leila was behind her, trying to grow grass and flowers out of the burnt ground. But Nova just stared at her home. Where she had taken her first step, spoken her first word, twirled her first dance.

Where she and Tric had first worked as a team.

Mars had been right. There _shouldn't _have been places for certain people to rot.

But someone else had wanted revenge on Nova. Someone had wanted to kill Vernia, just as they had killed Bebe.

Whoever it was, they had known what Mars was doing. They had _wanted _Vernia caught in the flood, maybe with Nova, too.

Which confirmed, yet again, that her killer worked for the Galactic Healers.

But Barry's mother had told her that it was a man – a man who had spoken. So it couldn't have been Saturn. It couldn't have been Byron, who was trapped in the Distortion World.

Volker, perhaps? Flint, even?

Or was there someone else out who was after her?

She had killed so many people, after all. So many. Anyone could have been after her.

Nova crouched down and felt Leila lean against her. Then, with a soft sound, the Roserade gently swirled her rose until a flower sprung from the ground.

Not just any flower.

A gracidea flower.

Nova plucked it from the ground and gently slid it into her hair, behind her ear.

It didn't matter who it was. They were in deep shits.

Because now, they had made it _really _personal.

* * *

**AHHHH WE'RE SO CLOSE TO MOUNT CORONET-**


	51. Chapter XLIX

**Chapter LXIX**

For the second time in her life, November found herself sitting in a whorehouse with her grandfather.

This time, though, she had dragged all the Twinleaf folks with her to shout them all drinks (except, of course, the little children – she made their parents pay for those ones). Since night had come, it was supposed to be busy, with dancers and townsfolk leaking across the tables and choking out their smoke. But, as usual, most people had shrunk back at the sight of November, her champions, and the lot of people she had brought with her – some with no legs, no arms, no eyes, nothing but their smiles.

Their smiles made it worth it, though. All her champions, too, were having a ball. Tric had become a bit of a celebrity with his stunt, Bailey and Leila were spinning children around the room, and even Rhys was letting little snots play with his fur. Tatiana, too, the youngest of her group, had stopped pretending to roll her eyes at everything and began chasing some young ones around. Only Owl hovered close to Nova, shy from all the prying eyes.

As the Twinleaf folk enjoyed their first proper meals in a long time, Nova sat with Duke Rowan and sighed.

"We made a mistake," she said.

He ran a hair through his white hair. "A mistake?"

"We shouldn't have gone to the lakes that we felt connected to," she explained. "Because then, when the lake spirit felt the pain, we felt it, too. Which made it bloody hard to fight."

Rowan nodded. "You're right. We should have thought ahead."

"Maybe next time."

"Arceus save us all of there is a next time."

Nova snorted at that.

If anyone else was mad enough to try turning back time after Cyrus—

"We need to save Riley," Rowan finally said. "Cyrus probably has him now."

"Save him from his own father?"

"I suppose."

"…_the woes of parenthood, aye?..." _

Nova frowned. "They won't hurt Riley. They _can't _hurt him. They need him alive for the spell, and Cyrus does actually care about his son."

"Is that why he won't let the other Galactic Healers hurt you?"

She raised a brow there, but said nothing.

"So, what do you suggest we do?" Rowan asked.

"We go to Barry as quickly as we can," Nova answered. "I don't think Barry will be able to stop the Galactic Healers if they get to Uxie first. He'll need our help. If we can stop Cyrus from getting Uxie, he won't even be able to cast the spell."

"Aye. You're right."

Nova pushed her chair back, letting it squeal. "I'll go find Barry. You stay here and look after my folks from Twinleaf, aye?"

Rowan watched her pat Owl on the head, watched her whistle for her other champions while her shadow hissed something into her ear. Even when he had chosen her all those months ago, he had _never _imagined for all of this to have happened – had never expected some snarky girl from Twinleaf to grow into _this_.

"They really respect you," he told her suddenly. "I've been listening to the stories. You helped the other kids find food sometimes. And when they saw the way you went to save Vernia…"

Nova tilted her head, staring curiously at him. "And thank _you_ for helping them stay safe while I did that. You could have left them. But you didn't."

"It's what leaders are supposed to do. Leave no one behind."

"Leave no one behind," she echoed after him.

Rowan nodded, saying, "It took me years to learn it." Then, he gestured behind her shoulder, where Vernia sat, he added, "And it looks like you've already learnt it."

Nova was too tired to say anything. She just smiled, threw her arms around her grandfather, and turned towards her mother. Vernia was too busy giving a farewell hug to Rhys to even notice her daughter pull out a chair beside her.

"Hey."

Vernia glanced up, startled. Then, finding Nova, she smiled and gave Rhys another rub beneath his chin. "Quite a team you've got."

"They sure are somethin' special, ain't they?"

"Aye." Then, Vernia's smile melted into a frown. "November, promise me you will _never _do something that stupid again. You could have gotten yourself _killed_."

Nova nearly laughed at that. She was a _gladiator_. Death seemed to only be a whisper away these days. Instead of mentioning that to her mother, though, she just shrugged.

"You would have died, Mother."

"So?" Vernia snorted. "Look at me. Look at _you_. You've got a life to live. And I'm just a…"

Nova raised her hand the second she saw her mother gesture at her legs.

"No. Don't."

"You know it's true," Vernia pointed out.

With a scowl, Nova leaned forwards. "You can't walk, aye, so what? It means _nothing_. You hear?"

Vernia looked at her daughter quietly. At the fire in her eyes – a fire that had always been there, but had grown brighter. Deadlier.

"Come here," she whispered, holding her arms out for her daughter.

Nova almost wanted to break as she held her mother – from stress, from worry, from the adrenaline that seemed to be permanently burned into her blood. Instead, though, she pressed her face against her mother's tunic and closed her eyes.

"Tell me about Byron," she mumbled. "I want to know about my father."

"What?"

Nova pulled away. "I want to know how you met, and how you fell in love. The first kiss. Everything."

"Since when did you become interested in this sort of thing?"

"…_i believe it started when her own first love kept telling her she smelt like piss…" _

"Since I learnt he was a good man," Nova answered.

"…_or that…"_

But Vernia caught the hesitance in her daughter's voice.

"Was?" she asked.

Nova felt her throat tighten.

Vernia _still _didn't know about what had happened to Byron. She had gone back to Twinleaf when it had all unfolded.

And so, November told her everything. About Riley being wrongly accused by her. About the visions. About the Distortion World. About the father that had saved her.

Vernia did cry – softly, quietly, her face buried behind her fingers.

And, as Nova felt her own tears slip warmly down her face, she felt Vernia reach out and clasp her hands.

"I first met Byron twenty years ago," she told her daughter. "It wasn't a Spring Dance, but a Winter Dance…"

* * *

For what felt like the millionth time, Nova found herself in Mount Coronet.

This time, though, it was just her and her six champions. All of them were huddled close, Tric's tail lighting the way, Rhys snapping at Owl to hurry up and Leila snapping at Rhys to shut up.

They were only just stepping over ankle-deep water when Nova heard the voice.

"November! _November_!"

She whirled around, her brows furrowed as she watched the pink-haired girl bound over to her. "Joy? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Joy repeated, her face bright crimson, her lip curled into a snarl. "What's _wrong_? You left me!"

"I—"

"You and Riley and even Barry! You all just left me in Canalave. You didn't leave a bloody message or anything." The healer's voice wavered, her lip trembling. "I thought… I thought…"

Nova sighed and held out her arms, rubbing the healer's back as she fell into them. "Oh, Joy."

"Why didn't you tell me?" the healer asked softly. "Why did you leave so secretly?"

"We didn't mean to, Joy. We just…"

Nova trailed off, her gaze drifting up to the rocks against the ceiling, the Pokémon that were watching her curiously.

"Do you know why people lie, Joy?" Nova said instead.

"Because they're cowards."

The gladiator winced. "Aye, but also because they want to protect the people they're lying to."

"Oh, please."

"Also, do you know how bloody _early _in the morning it was when we left? You would have been even more mad if we woke you up."

"…_besides, she clearly needs the beauty sleep…" _

Joy hissed at the shadow. "I heard that!"

"…_congratulations…" _

Before Joy could reach out and try stomping over the shadow, Nova held the healer by the shoulders.

"You should go back, Joy," she said. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"Why do you think people are getting hurt?"

Nova wanted to pull out her hair.

Of _course _people were going to get hurt. Whenever she was involved in anything, someone was bound to get hurt.

But Nova only shrugged.

"Rhys is an arsehole who likes hurting others," she said, ignoring the Luxray's scowl. "That's why."

"I've known Rhys since he was a wee Shinx. I have nothing to be afraid of."

The healer fixed up her pack, straightened her hair, and pointed towards the light that filtered through the end of the cave.

"Let's go."

* * *

If Nova had been excited the first time she had felt grass and rain, it was _nothing _compared to how she felt when she first stepped into snow.

It was nothing short of wonderful.

Ice floated in the air, white and dotted with their own, intricate patterns. Flakes swirled and danced with the wind, falling gently on the ground – well, not the ground. Nova wasn't quite sure what to call it. It was just a landscape of white, crunching beneath her steps, a blanket of snow.

Even the shrubs and trees were stained with frost, and Nova had stared in wonder at it all for minutes, while Leila, Bailey and Tatiana wailed about the cold.

After a while, though, Nova started to sympathise with them.

The further they walked, the harder it got to breathe – to _see_. The snow was harsh and biting, scratching into their faces, blinding them in a flurry of swirling white. Even the wind became unforgiving, cutting right through the gloves they had packed.

It was beautiful, aye, but it was wild. Untamed. A tempest.

And so, Nova suggested stopping to rest.

"Shouldn't we be getting to Barry as quickly as possible?" Joy pointed out as Nova dropped her bags and fell onto the snow.

Nova shrugged. "Barry is tough. I believe in him."

"But, Nova, the Galactic Healers…"

"It's been a long few weeks. I need rest if I want to protect Barry."

That convinced the healer. Gingerly, Joy crouched onto the snow, wincing as the cold sank into her clothes.

"It's strange how things have changed," she said to the gladiator. "Normally, it's you rushing ahead and me telling you to wait."

"Oh, Arceus, you're becoming like me, then."

"…_i'm not sure that sinnoh can handle two novembers. it can hardly seem to handle one…" _

Tric sat in the centre, his burning head keeping Joy's hands warm while Owl slept. Leila, Tatiana and Rhys had decided to build a snowman, and Nova had dug out a flask of ale and snuggled with Bailey. Then, while the healer watched on, the gladiator and her Staraptor played a little game.

"Take a sip if you've farted during one of our gladiator matches."

Bailey squawked and pushed aside the flask. Nova snorted.

"Oh, please. I _heard _you, Bailey! Don't pretend."

"…_i remember, too. it was pretty loud…"_

Reluctantly, Bailey tipped the flask back with his beak and took a drink. Then, he squawked.

"That's a dumb one. Of course I've picked me bloody nose, Bailey."

Another squawk. Nova snatched the flask and drank.

"Take a sip if you've once eaten shit before."

A squawk.

"Does it matter if it's human shit or Pokémon shit?"

Another squawk.

"Wait, how would you even know whose shit it belonged to? Did you watch them do it and run to get it while it was warm?"

Bailey gagged and just reached for the flask. Nova laughed and held the Staraptor tight. From the corner of her eye, she could see Tatiana and Leila bossing Rhys around, making him roll snow into big mounts, could see them purposely putting black sticks on its head so it looked like her own dark hair. Even Darkrai had left her shadow for a moment to go help them, pretending to hate every second of it even though she _knew _he was enjoying it.

And, of course, she couldn't stop thinking about Tric. About the way he had lunged in front of a wall of water for her. The way he had protected her with every ounce of power he had.

She was so lucky to have them. So bloody lucky.

Joy, herself, was gazing down at her Pokéball, no doubt considering sending her own Happiny out to join the fun. Nova cocked her head to the side.

"You've lost a lot, Joy," she said.

Joy blinked back her surprise. "Aye?"

"How do you live with it?"

There was a moment of silence as the healer surveyed the gladiator. Then, with a sigh, she looked down at her feet.

"I see it like a cut," she explained, pointing at her heart. "A cut over here. And I tell myself that, over time, it will heal. It may scar, aye, but it does stop bleeding. And it does start healing."

Nova nodded thoughtfully at that.

And with those words ringing in her head, she slept through the tempest.

* * *

Days later, Nova and Joy found themselves just steps away from Lake Acuity.

And those steps were separated by a cliff – a towering rampart of stone that glinted white from the snow, that curved higher than the trees. Maybe Bailey could have flown them over it, but the poor Staraptor was still shaking from the cold, with snow sleeping between all his feathers.

Which meant they would have to climb.

"Do you have any rope?" Joy asked. "We could—Nova?"

Because the gladiator was already walking away from the stone, all her Pokémon trailing behind her, their footsteps leaving little dents in the snow.

"Where are you going?" the healer called out.

Nova didn't stop walking, even as she said, "Snowpoint."

"But Lake Acuity is up here!"

"I know."

"_Barry _is up here!"

"I know."

Joy let out an exasperated sigh. "Aren't you going to save him?"

Finally, Nova stopped and turned her head to face Joy.

"I made a promise, Joy," she said slowly. "I made a promise to my father to win all the legionary crystals. I'm going to keep that promise."

"When did you start caring about your _father _more than Barry?" Joy snapped. "The _world _is at stake here!"

"Barry is strong enough to handle the world."

And before she could stop herself, the healer found tears in her eyes, found her voice shaking as she took a step towards the gladiator.

"What is wrong with you?" Joy asked quietly. "What is _wrong _with you?"

Nova said nothing. She just looked down at her shadow and frowned.

"Once upon a time," Joy continued, "you would have dropped _everything _for your friend. If I had told you that Barry was choking on his own bloody toes, you would have been by his side straight away. What happened to you? What happened to November?"

"Nothing happened to her."

"Something _must _have happened to her!" Joy shot back. Then, she glanced down at that shadow – at that rippling swirl of blackness. "It's all because of that stupid shadow, isn't it? Ever since that Darkrai started travelling with you, you've changed. You've become…"

Nova had to bite back her snort as she turned around. "I've become what? A bitch?"

"Not a bitch. You've become _heartless_."

"…_such harsh accusations…" _

Joy reeled back upon hearing the Darkrai's voice, her gaze softening as she stared at Nova. At her friend.

"Is that Darkrai controlling you?" she asked softly. "Is he making you do things against your own will?"

"…_the world would be so much more peaceful if she did…" _

But Nova didn't feel the same amusement as her shadow. She didn't like _anyone _saying anything about Darkrai, about her companion. About her decisions.

"Listen here," Nova said, calm but cold, quiet but harsh. "I've changed, aye. But I still have a heart."

She turned on her heel, only stopping once to call out over her shoulder.

"And sometimes, that's all I think I have left."

* * *

Tatiana the Gabite was staring at the Pokémon around her. An Infernape, a Luxray, a Staraptor, a Roserade, and a Gastrodon.

In all truth, she felt a little lonely watching them. They were all so grown, all so close from their months of time together. Leila had been the most open to making friends with her, but after a few minutes of her constant chirping, Tatiana was exhausted. Bailey was just as bad – friendly, always sticking to her side, but seemed too much of a baby to even leave his gladiator's head.

Then there was Owl, who was too shy to even talk to her. And Tric, who had the opposite problem – he kept setting little fires around her in a hopeless attempt to scare the living shits out of her.

Which left Rhys the Luxray. Who, frankly, Tatiana was beginning to _really _like.

Except, he rolled his eyes whenever she tried to go near him. And then, he promptly turned away.

Because she was too weak for him. Too weak for them all.

Or maybe, just _maybe_, it was because she refused to train.

They were just outside Snowpoint, snow clinging to all of them, a blizzard hissing against their eyes. Nonetheless, Nova was insistent on training – on burying her sword in the snow and asking them to find it, fight for it, return it to her first for a munch at whatever she had left in her pack.

Everyone else was having fun. Tric and Rhys were practically clawing at each other as they dug through the snow.

But Tatiana, who absolutely _hated _the snow, stared and watched. Scowled whenever Leila and Bailey tried to urge her into the snow.

Finally, it was Nova who came up to her.

"What's wrong, Tatiana?" she asked.

Tatiana gestured at the snow and hissed.

"Don't like the snow."

A nod of agreement.

Nova looked away from her, her gaze finding the others. Eyes trailing across the fur, the feathers, the flowers.

"You see those folks there?" she suddenly asked. "All of them – every single one of them – has had to do something they don't like to be here. Every single one of them."

Tatiana followed her gaze, where Bailey and Leila – the two who also hated the snow – were pushing themselves. Curving their way through the blizzard. Shivering and trembling, but still managing to rip through the hail and search for the sword.

"Every single one of them. That's what it means to me on my team. It's the only way we got here."

Tatiana looked at her – looked at those eyes that were burning with determination, that were still soft as they found her.

"And if you're not willing to do that, Tatiana, then I'm giving you the chance to leave."

The Gabite took a sharp breath at that.

Leave? _Leave? _

"It's your choice."

Tatiana stared at them all. She already knew the stories. Tric, who had been pissing himself at the sight of Frazer the Onix, but who had still stayed behind to fight for Nova. Owl, who had to witness murder, who had to fight in front of arenas even though she could hardly talk to anyone but her gladiator. Bailey and Leila, too soft and kind, who had to strangle and kill.

And Rhys. The gorgeous Luxray—

He was staring at her. Looking at her like she was just another snowflake fluttering in the air. Another piece of dust. Another waste of time.

For some reason, it pissed her off more than anything.

So, she lunged into the snow, her eyes closed as the cold seeped into her skin. As her bones rattled from it. As her claws barely managed to scrape away the ice.

_It's your choice. _

Those words ringing in her head. Fuelling the fire in her stomach.

And she found it. Both the gladiator's sword against her claws, but the sword in her heart.

When she pushed her way out of the snow, the sword between her teeth, Nova clapped. Even shot her a brief wink. Tric came to slap her own the back, while Bailey, Owl and Leila gave her sweet little chants.

Rhys just stood and watched from the corner with narrowed, observant eyes.

Not quite another snowflake anymore. Not quite a threatening foe.

But someone who was part of his team.

* * *

The snow hugged the houses, fresh and clingy. It was like all of Snowpoint had just been tucked into bed, hushed under a frigid quilt. Nova could only barely see the shingle roofs through the hanging lanterns, could only just make out the smoke that wafted from stone chimneys.

She had already passed by gladiators, all of whom were snarling.

Apparently, ever since she had come back from Canalave, Candice had stopped hosting legionary battles.

Nova instantly tracked down her house – the biggest one, and the only one without grey smoke oozing out from the top. Without even stopping for a second, she barged in, ignoring the chill of the room. The entire room felt stale – the rugs looked damp, the stone walls seemed almost claustrophobic, and all the settees was shrouded in grey.

As soon as she found the legionary sitting cross-legged on the rug, Nova grinned.

"Hello, Candice."

The legionary glanced up sharply. "You…"

"So," Nova cut in, "what will the legionary battle be? Making you laugh? Or fighting the bloody Regigagas?"

"My Snover and my Maylene _died _in your arms," Candice shot back, her eyes murderous, her lip curled into a dark scowl. "And you think you have the audacity—"

Nova raised a hand, rolling her eyes. "Aye. I do. Because you're not the only person who has lost people you love, Candice. Everyone has lost someone. What matters is you move on."

"And what if I don't want to?"

"Then you become like Cyrus, who needs five dead legionaries. The one who needed Maylene dead in the first place."

Candice was quiet for a second after that. Nova leaned against the doorframe, grinning lazily.

"So, what's it going to be, Candice? Do we have to make you laugh? Or fight the damned Regigigas?"

"…_pretty bleak options, if you ask me…" _

The legionary stood then, shaking out her braids, glaring at the gladiator.

"Tomorrow morning. At dawn."

"Shall I come with me best jokes?"

Candice only snorted.

"Come with your bloody death-wish."

* * *

**Legionary time! Again! It's happening so quickly now, isn't it? I feel like Byron's was just yesterday. **

**Be prepared. It'll be fun! **


	52. Chapter L

**Chapter L **

People had come to Snowpoint Temple to witness the twenty or so gladiators – to see the brutal, bloody, and beautiful legionary battle. Some had come with wine, ready for the slaughter, their cheers reverberating through the stone above Nova's head. They stamped their feet, the rhythm echoing down onto the stone pillars, the snow crunching beneath them.

"People of Snowpoint," Candice was saying, her voice cold and curt. "Behold your gladiators."

They roared around the temple. They could see it all clearly – with no walls and only four pillars holding up the stone roof, they could probably see more than they would in a normal arena. They could see the iron spaulders and greaves over the gladiators' shoulders and shins, the leather skirts and breastplates. They could see the steel. The scars. The glory.

And the giant Regigigas chained to the centre.

It was big – bigger, even, that Frazer the Onix had been. Bigger than the Gyarados. Nova wasn't even sure it had eyes – all it had was black dots along its front, glowing red as it rattled the chains, its gems shining blue and red and silver. The yellow bands around its arms were chained, and its three fingers danced as it tried to pull itself away, as the moss on its feet clung onto the steel.

Regigigas roared. It lunged towards the crowd as they screamed, but the chains kept it bound to the floor. As soon as the townsfolk realised they were safe, they cheered and goaded it more.

Nova felt nothing at first as Tatiana hovered just behind her. Candice shot her a dirty look and moved away from the temple.

"Begin!"

The people roared, deafening. Hungry for the blood. Even the Regigigas writhed in response, head swinging side to side.

But not a single damned gladiator moved.

"…_can't blame them, really…" _

All twenty of them just stared.

Where to start? _How _to start?

People were already beginning to boo, to shift restlessly. A few of the gladiators, with worry etched all over their faces, circled around the Regigigas as it thrashed and growled.

"Kill it!" someone cried out. "Don't be cowards!"

One of the gladiators immediately prickled up at that. He hefted his sword, charging towards the Regigigas with his weapon raised. Several other gladiators and their Pokémon joined him, Nova among them while her Gabite just stayed back and winced, rushing forward with bloody cries.

They attacked the Regigigas from all sides, hewing and stabbing with spear and sword. Nova had chosen the back – darting out from fangs of stone, burying her sword to the hilt.

But the gladiators that had come from the front paused as a beam of light started to form around the beast's head. Then, with a revolting and _wet _sound, Regigigas reared back and sent the beam flying towards the gladiators and their Pokémon.

They screamed, their flesh burning, blood slick along their faces. All that raw power, all that desperate energy, sent out in a beam that killed at least a dozen of them. Maybe more.

"Get here!" Nova called towards her Gabite, who was snarling back, disgust written all over her face. "Get here, Tatiana!"

Tatiana gave her a look that screamed _fuck that. _Nova hissed.

"Get here you bloody _coward_!"

And so, the Gabite started moving towards her. Nova stabbed her blade into Regigigas's back again, feeling as it shivered. Its blood was so dark that it looked black, slicking to Nova's elbows. It rolled and buckled, and as Nova yanked out her sword, leaving a gaping wound, she gestured for the Gabite.

Then, with only the slightest bit of reluctance, Tatiana shot out purple flames into the wound.

Regigigas roared in pain, rolling over on its side to crush Nova. Instantly, Tatiana grabbed the gladiator and they dove away, narrowly avoiding being smashed into a pulp on the stone and ice floors.

Blood and flesh burst from the wound, sizzling from Tatiana's fire. The crowd cheered as the Regigigas howled, blood bubbling at its throat, the stench of blood and acid and smoke washing over Nova in waves.

"…_i think you made it angry…" _

"You sure are observant, aren't you?"

Regigigas turned its head towards Nova, letting loose a terrible scream. Nova and Tatiana instantly darted back towards the cluster of remaining gladiators, seeking cover amongst the pillars, trying to hide out of reach from the beast's chained arms.

The ground shook. Nova stumbled. But other gladiators were seizing the chance, hacking and chopping at the Regigigas, even as it brushed them away with sparks of electricity flaring around its hands. It was just about to turn away and attack the other gladiators when its gaze found Nova and Tatiana again, its very own blood on her sword.

The reaction was instantaneous. Horrifying.

Regigigas stilled, its muscles turning taut.

Then, with a spine-chilling scream, it lunged across the temple towards Nova, a beam of white already glowing near its face, its legs bounding as it thrashed against the chains.

And, with a shriek from the metal, the bright and tinkling sound of shattering steel, the chains that held the Regigigas to the floor had snapped cleanly into two.

"…_oh shit…" _

"Oh, _shit_!"

Regigigas whipped about, far too huge for Tatiana to hold back even as she lashed out with a stream of purple fire. Nova dove aside as the its three fingers swept across the temple in a great scything arc, crushing stone to splinters and two more gladiators into a crunch of blood and bone. Nova was clipped as she jumped aside, smashed into a pillar, stars bursting in her eyes.

Tatiana was there, though, pulling her away as Regigigas – completely free from the chains – attacked again.

And, as the crowd also realised that its chain was broken, they broke into frothing, shrieking panic.

Nova reached for Tatiana, watching as the few remaining gladiators rose their steel blades and rushed towards the Regigigas. Giving not a damn at all, the beast lunged with its fist – burning with flames – and slammed it into them, leaving them in a tangled mess of burning flesh.

Sweat burned in Nova's eyes, the screams of the people deafening. The temple around her was chaos, with the crowd rushing for their homes, while others stood paralysed and cried with terror.

Regigigas reared up and bellowed, its broken chains hanging loose around its wrist. With a sweep of another fist, Nova realised that she was the only one left. The only one living, breathing, and staring at its thick, leathery skin and its dark, dribbling blood.

"…_well, this is going remarkably well…"_

Nova rolled onto her belly, her head pounding, her breaths gasping. "It's very easy to sit back and watch."

"…_satisfying, too…" _

Regigigas had reached the temple's entrance, looming over the people, body swaying above a pack of shrieking people. It took a long breath, ready to shoot out another one of those damned beams, when Nova realised that Tatiana was missing.

The Gabite – the crazy little thing – was dragging herself out of the snow, bodies splattered all around her. Nova had to rip off her helm to see it clearly, to see Tatiana's claws glow purple as she drew her arm back and swiped it across the Regigigas's back.

Her claw sailed through the air in a perfect arc, gleaming purple in the thinning sunlight. Regigigas howled, shaking its head to dislodge Tatiana from his back, dark blood spraying. And before it could lunge for the Gabite, Nova waved her hands and jumped on her feet.

"Hey!" she called out. "Arsehole!"

Regigigas shuddered, a deep and rumbling whine shivering its entire body. It forgot about the scrambling people, turning towards the lone gladiator and her Gabite. Then, its roar split through the air.

"I got its attention," Nova whispered.

"…_congratulations…" _

"But now what?"

* * *

Nova, for the life of her, could not slay the Regigigas.

It swung its fist away from the crowd and towards her, fingers uncurling and curling, a roar rolling up from its belly. Nova's own sword may as well have been a little toothpick, and her shadow rippled as it drank away her fear.

And it made her cold. Hard. Fearless.

Her mind raced a she scanned the pillars, the broken rocks, the bloody snow, the beast coming towards her. And, as she thought and thought and thought, as she found Tatiana taking a deep breath and facing the blood and gore despite her initial disgust, Nova had an idea.

She whispered it to Darkrai. Watched as he left her shadow and whispered it to Tatiana before slinking back beneath her feet.

Then, with no fear and no pause and no breath to waste, Nova raised her sword. Sweat in her yes, hair stuck to her skin, lips curling back from her teeth, Nova charged with a cry, right _towards _the Regigigas.

The people, panicking as they were, fell still as they watched the girl run headlong into the beast's arms. Regigigas reared back, preparing its beam as the girl sprinted through the mash of broken bodies and cracked stone, through the littered weapons and the leather. Then just as the beam was about to strike, something scraped at his back. Climbing up and up and up while it had been distracted, reaching the shoulder just as it had been ready to destroy the gladiator.

Tatiana.

And she spat sand right into what she hoped was its eyes. Blinding it.

The beam swerved left, and Nova dove aside, avoiding the spray of light. Quick as silver, clawing through the blood and dust and chaos. And though no one could have been sure, some people who watched – some who hadn't fled – could have sword that her shadow was crawling along her skin, swathing her face and arms with black streaks, her gaze as fearless as ever as she swept aside.

Nova swayed on her feet, the rush of it all almost making her drop to her knees. But still, she kept herself upright, driven by her sheer stubbornness. Half-staggering, half-running, chest burning, she ran and called out for it.

In its blindness, it had nothing to follow but her voice, even as it rubbed its eyes with its fingers. And, as she twirled around him, her shadow crawling over her skin as Darkrai drank away every hissing bit of fear, Tatiana slid down to the ground and struck.

She spat mud. Exhaling it from her mouth, her pulse thundering, all along Regigigas's body. Coating it.

The Regigigas turned towards the cold mud, but Nova snarled.

And, with no fear in her, she ran towards her Gabite, jumped on her back, and took a long breath as Tatiana helped her fly onto the Regigigas.

For a moment, she was just there, hanging in the air. Flying. Falling. Floating.

Then, she buried her sword into its back, hanging there. Regigigas thrashed beneath her as she groped her way up its back, up towards its rearing head. The audience was howling, the Regigigas roaring, and thorough all the cacophony, Nova held onto her pulsing heart and climbed.

Not stabbing it. She knew it was too futile.

But she spread the mud with her bare hands. Spreading it like she was a child, playing with a friend, coating it with the dirt and grime.

And Tatiana kept spitting it out, not stopping, her breaths wheezing in between each spurt. Exhausted. Her stomach straining. But still pumping out bomb after bomb of mud.

It was impossible to keep up with the Regigigas, though. It just kept flailing, kept leaping around, the mud flinging off it.

But still, they tried. Their wills driving them forward. Spreading and spitting, spitting and spreading.

Until finally—

_Finally—_

"Now, Tatiana! _Now_!"

When the Regigigas was coated in a full layer of mud, Tatiana reeled back and took a long breath. Then, she spat again.

Not mud. But purple fire.

Everywhere. Anywhere. Hot fire that made Nova's face prickle and burn, blister and sweat. It started at the feet, at those moss-and-mud coated lumps, slithering higher and higher, burning and burning—

And slowly, the mud was hardening.

Hardening into _stone_.

"More Tatiana! _More_!"

Back to mud. Back to purple fire. Flickering back and forth as the Regigigas shrieked, as each layer of mud turned into cracking, hard stone. Spreading up, the fire crackling and popping, reaching the face.

Regigigas paused, a tremor running through its body. Nova yanked her blade out and scrambled down the mud, slipping, then clinging onto a broken spear that had been stuck near its arm. Gripping the beast with her fingernails, she drew back her sword and, with a hiss, plunged it into the flesh beneath its eye.

It bellowed, a bubble of blood welling up and bursting. And then, Nova jumped off, falling and falling, inhaling relief as Tatiana caught her.

But Nova instantly moved away from Tatiana. She just gestured wildly at the Regigigas.

"Finish it."

And the Gabite did just that.

More mud. More purple fire.

Streaming over its face, layer after layer, so thickly that the Regigigas almost seemed to lose its shape beneath the stone.

Then, when it was too heavy – when it could no longer fight away the purple fire – Tatiana stopped.

The stone around Regigigas was already crumbling. But there was some time – just a few desperate seconds – to work.

Tatiana slammed her feet into the stone. Slammed it over and over again, the temple shaking, the roof crumbling, the already-damaged pillars shuddering. Guilt in her guts. Worry in her heart.

But there was no time for that.

Because choosing to stay with November was the same as choosing destruction. Catastrophe.

So she slammed her feet. Again and again. Into the floor.

And the temple began to collapse.

"Get out!" Nova screamed at everyone – at _anyone _– who could hear. "Get _out_!"

Nova grabbed Tatiana and ran, the Regigigas already breaking out, its groans deafening. But they ran and ran, swaying back and forth, gasping for breath until—

The thud echoed across Snowpoint, dust rising as its temple collapsed. But as the morning winds blew across the land, across the blood-soaked snow, the pall cleared to reveal a single girl and her Gabite. Standing along on the crumbling remnants of the temple.

They all waited. Waited for Regigigas to rise, to push past the rubble.

But with snow beneath it, with stone above it, and with the will of steel driving her blade into the single finger that stuck out from the shattered temple…

Snow. Stone. Steel.

Trapping it all there.

Panting and bleeding, Nova bent down and dragged her blade free from that finger. Then, holding Gabite's claw with one hand, she raised her sword in the sky.

Silence rang across the snow as the people stared. Hollow and still.

No one could believe what they had seen. No one could even speak.

Least of all Candice, who was fighting back a small laugh as she pulled out a legionary crystal.

* * *

Some called her Saviour of the Snow.

Some called her Daughter of Nightmares.

"I'm a hungry little snot, is what I am," Nova mumbled as she leaned back. Her Pokémon were all squeezed on the bed with her, plotting. Planning. Even Darkrai had crept out of her shadows as they murmured quietly, sipped ale, and shoved carrots down their throats.

Once she was rested, she had to go to Barry and Uxie. Make sure they were alright.

Then…

_Cyrus needed five dead legionaries… _

Nova closed her eyes. Felt Roserade scatter some sleeping powder on her face.

For now, she would sleep.

Because she knew it was going to be a long_, long _time until she would get to sleep again.

* * *

**I'm not including the other Regis (Regice, Registeel and Regirock) in this story, so I'm not sure exactly what my lore is behind it - but I like the idea of snow, steel and stone being the thing to trap Regigigas, hence why, when you play the game, you need those three Regis to unbound it if you want to catch Regigigas. So yeah, that's fun! **

**Fun fact: In the paragraph above, I had written 'Regisnow' instead of 'Regice'. Oops? **


	53. Chapter LI

**Chapter XLI **

There was blood on the snow around Lake Acuity. There were Galactic Healers lying there, their lips blue and chapped, their temples bruised.

And Barry was nowhere to be seen.

Only Tatiana had come with Nova while the others rested in the inn. And, after climbing up the cliff, they found themselves staring at the frozen-over lake. Unlike Lake Verity and Valour, there were no lumps of gold or steel sticking out from the water. Instead, in the centre of the ice, there was a single tree – as green as fronds and leaves, untouched by the snow. Bright, glowing golden in the sun, even despite the raging blizzard.

"Nova…"

The voice came from the snow. Nova instantly tore her gaze away from the tree and darted, kicking aside the cloaks and the Galactic Healers, her breath in her throat as she found the Happiny, as she found—

"Joy!"

She immediately hauled the healer into her arms, rubbing her shoulders warm, holding the girl's head to her chest as she threw her own cloak around them.

"Barry…" Joy was mumbling, her voice trembling and weak, pained and quiet. "They took him… You were too late…"

Nova ignored the harshness in those final words. Ignored the accusatory stare.

Instead, with Tatiana scouting around and searching through the bodies, Nova bit her lip.

"Where's Jupiter?" she asked.

Joy gestured towards the tree. "She went that way…"

Nova instantly placed Joy into Tatiana's arms. Then, with the Gabite nodding at her, the gladiator darted through the snow, over the rumpled cloaks and bloodied swords, and towards that tree. Towards the smaller, tree-like figure right beside the giant, gnarled tree.

"What's she doing?" she asked her shadow.

"…_why must you always ask me?..." _

"You don't do much else, do ya?"

"…_i'm hurt, nova. truly…" _

With a roll of her eyes, she and her shadow moved towards the tree, her voice strained as she called out, "Jupiter! _Jupiter_!"

Her steps felt so damned slow and heavy in the snow. Her skin felt too cold, too numb.

But the old Song Sister, Jupiter, didn't move. She just turned and twisted her lips – her lips made of small, circular leaves.

"November. How do you do?"

Nova stopped, only an arm's length away, trying not to breathe too hard. Feeling Darkrai eat away that fear as she asked, "How's Barry?"

Jupiter winced. "He's tough. He took down a lot of my healers."

"Aye." There was a swell of pride in Nova's chest as she added, "He's brave like that."

"Clever, I'd say. But not clever enough to save Uxie."

Nova felt her heart sink as Jupiter turned to leave.

It was happening, then. Cyrus had the three lake spirits. Now, all he needed was—

"Wait."

"What?" Jupiter asked, inclining her head. Her wooden eyes blinking.

"The Galactic Healers need five dead legionaries," Nova pointed out, her mouth dry. "You tried poisoning them at Byron's gala, aye? Where Maylene…"

She didn't need to finish. Jupiter nodded. "I wasn't in charge of that one, but aye."

"Who was in charge?"

"You don't know?"

"All I know is that, whoever poisoned Maylene, they also tried to poison me with the other legionaries."

Jupiter shrugged at that. "I figured that would be the case."

The gladiator narrowed her gaze at that.

What was _that _supposed to mean?

"Listen, November," Jupiter was saying, taking a single step closer. "The Galactic Healers are keeping to their promise. They are only killing the legionaries. Everything else? Poisoning your little friend, Bebe? Trying to poison _you_? That's personal."

With that, the old Song Sister was gone, shooting one pitiful look towards Joy before trailing away in the snow.

Nova didn't even bother taking chase. Didn't bother asking where Barry and Uxie were, where Riley and Mespirit were.

Because Jupiter had told her everything she needed.

Someone was after her. Someone _did _want to kill her. They had killed Bebe, they had tried to kill her mother, and they had nearly killed her in the process.

And it was entirely personal.

Who?

_Who? _

She thought about it, feeling Tatiana and Joy's gazes on her.

It had to be someone who would hate her. Someone who would hate her mother, even. Someone who had been at the Spring Dance to poison Bebe.

Nova, herself, had done enough killing to make a few enemies. But this person had tried killing her before Veilstone – before the miles of murder had really begun. Which meant that the only reason they would want her dead was because they knew who she was. Byron's bastard daughter.

Which meant that Bebe's killer and Maylene's killer was someone who had a rank to protect.

Someone whose rank would be spoiled because of her.

Someone who would do anything – absolutely _anything _– to keep their status.

Someone who would even consider pushing a helpless young girl to her death.

Maybe not pushing her down stairs, but pushing her down—

Nova felt her heart stop for just a second.

In Oreburgh, she hadn't _wanted _to fight Frazer the Onix. She had been pushed down there.

Not by Bebe, who could hardly push a Bidoof. Not by Riley, who she _knew _adored her. Not by Barry, who was blind but certainly not stupid.

Which left one person only.

* * *

She was alone. Her Pokémon already in a safe place with Joy, just in case she never came back.

With her sword, she picked at the lock, her stomach tightening as it finally clicked in her fingers. The door swung open a crack, and as she peered into the darkened room and stole inside, someone seized her arm.

Her back was thrown against a wall, a knife to her throat. And the boy who held her there gritted his teeth.

"Hello, brother," Nova purred, no fear in her blood. Just quiet, cold desire for vengeance.

Roark didn't lower his knife. He just scowled. "What are you doing in here?"

"We have to talk."

"We have _nothing_ to talk about."

In one quick, deft movement, she kicked at his crotch. Caught his wrist before he could plunge his knife into her throat. Used her other hand to point her sword at his heart. Then, with a sly grin, she leaned close.

"We have _plenty _to talk about."

* * *

Only hours later, she found herself in Canalave, at the dinner table where Maylene had died.

Died because of poison. Died because of Roark.

Just like Bebe.

The remaining legionaries – Wake, Fantina, and Candice – had been gathered by Bailey, and watched with wide eyes as Nova threw her bloody sword on the table.

"Roark?" Wake said, his jaw hanging loose as he stared at drops of scarlet that spilled onto the wood. "All along? _Roark_?"

"I will not believe it," Fantina snapped. "My nephew would never—"

Nova cut her off with a glare. "He _did _poison Maylene, and he tried to poison _all _of you. And now, the Galactic Healers are still after you because they need you for their spell. Gardenia is a bloody tree, Maylene is already dead, Byron is trapped in the Distortion World. That leaves four of you—"

Before she could finish, Volkner stormed into the room, his robes sweeping behind him. He was paler than she had ever seen him, deep shadows around his eyes.

"You were right," he told Nova, his voice smaller than ever. "Maylene's body. It _is _gone from Lost Tower."

"They need it for the spell," Nova said simply.

But Candice was standing up, her hands trembling, her eyes red.

"I'll kill them," the Snowpoint legionary hissed. "I'll kill them all."

"Wait," Fantina called out. "How do we know it's not _you_, November, working for the Galactic Healers? How do we know you're not blaming Roark the same way you had blamed Riley?"

Nova winced at those words. At the thought of Riley.

She wanted him to be alright. She _needed _him to be alright.

"I believe her," Volkner told Fantina.

That startled everyone. Especially November.

"_What_?" Fantina said.

Volkner shrugged. "You heard me, Fantina. I believe her."

"As do I," Wake chimed in. "But, November, what the _hell _is going on?"

"The Galactic Healers have Maylene's body," Nova said, plain and flat. "They will be trying to kill you lot now. You're the last four they need. So we need to keep you safe."

"We can fight them," Candice snapped. "We are chosen by the bloody _queen_—"

Nova shook her head. "If you fight, some of you will die. And we can't risk that."

"What do you suggest we do, then? Escape? Run? Flee like Queen Cynthia?"

Volkner scowled at that, but Nova only smiled fondly at Candice.

"I have a plan," she told them. "It's a good one."

"…_taking all the credit again, are we?..."_

Nova ignored the shadow. Instead, she turned to Wake. Gave him a stare that made even the roughest of pirates shrivel up.

"First, though, you're going to need a bloody shirt."

* * *

The four legionaries escaped at dawn.

All of them were dressed as knights, armoured in black leather with Honchkrow feathers pluming their helms. Nova had tucked their weapons into their belts for them – short-swords and daggers, just in case things turned ugly.

Then, they moved as quietly as they could, out of Byron's mansion and towards the crash of waves upon a rocky shore.

They had to move fast. There could have been Galactic Healer spies anywhere.

Nova had asked them to split up. Four knights – two of which were _women _– moving together onto a ship would draw too much attention. So, once they were certain that no one was watching, they exchanged quick glances and moved onto different paths. All of them heading towards Wake's ship that awaited them by the docks.

But, within minutes, things started getting _strange_.

Fantina had been moving soundlessly onto the cobbles, when she spotted a Roserade. And before she could say a word, it whipped her with a vine – square on the throat. Then, just as Fantina was ready to slice the vine with her blade and call out a Pokémon, a burst of mud from a Gastrodon crashed onto her, forcing her to stumble back against a wall.

The legionary raised her dagger, her shout turning into a muffled whisper as a hand clapped over her mouth and sleep powder came falling onto her face. Then, Fantina dropped like a stone, lying flat on the ground.

Within seconds, someone in a Murkrow mask dragged her away.

Volkner was next, moving as calmly as he could, marching down the road with his hood pulled low. The armour didn't fit well across his shoulders, and part of him _still _couldn't believe that he was listening to that stupid wench of all people, but he didn't care – the blue water was just there. So close, with a handful of Wingulls already swooping above his head.

His heart was starting to pound as he saw the tall masts of the ships.

It was an act of cowardice to escape. And yet—

Something drove into his back, nails skewering through his armour. He spun, trying to smash it aside, but before he could even rip out the dagger from his belt, electricity came sizzling onto his skin. The legionary started screaming, scratching at his throat as he fell to the ground, crying out as the Luxray shoved him onto the ground.

Then, completely and utterly paralysed, Volkner could do nothing as someone with a Murkrow mask dragged him away.

Wake and Candice had already made it to the ship. They had scrambled up the rope ladder, feeling the boat roll and sway with the tide. While Candice stared at the sun, tears in her eyes, Wake moved away and began checking through everything – the timber lattice over his head, the crates and barrels, the coils of rope, the iron-bound chest full of his loot, the room where he had stowed away the sails—

He gasped as he walked in, only to find a Gabite staring back at him. The sails in her claws shredded into thin, long ribbons.

"What in the…"

There was a scream from the deck, and Wake ran. He followed the sound of scuffling footsteps, of Candice's curses, and froze.

There were two struggling figures, silhouetted against the light. Candice was one of them – he could tell from the braids. But the figure behind her, arm wrapped around the legionary's neck, looked like…

"Tric?" he whispered.

There was a gasp and a wet thud as the Infernape punched Candice. The poor girl went toppling onto the wood, groaning. Wake rushed to her side, kneeling there, belly churning, his mouth as dry as dust as a girl came and stood beside the Infernape.

"Nova?" Wake said. "What the hell—"

He was cut off as a Staraptor swooped overhead, dropping a boy onto the ship beside the girl.

And there, he saw Nova and Roark, the two half-siblings, grinning at each other.

"Well done, sister," Roark said. "I suppose I _shouldn't _have tried poisoning you."

Nova just smiled.

"You bleeding fucking _bitch_," Candice was muttering against the wood. "You _lied _to us. You…"

She was cut off by Roark, who pressed his boot onto her hand. Making her scream.

"Nova? You too?" Wake managed to mumble. "You… The Galactic Healers…?"

"Faithless fucking bitch," Candice spat again.

Roark rolled his eyes and gestured towards the docks, where men and women in Murkrow masks were waiting for him. Volkner and Fantina were already tied up, bundled and thrown onto the stones.

"Nova?" Wake said again.

Nova met the pirate's stare, her eyes clouded, her lips grim. Cruel. Callous. Her shadow darker than ever as the sunlight fell over her. He thought he could see tears in those dark lashes, even though the wind sent her dark hair flying over her face. He _hoped _he could see tears.

"Nova?"

Finally, she shook her head, hands fluttering helplessly to her sides. "I'm sorry, Wake…"

Wake couldn't believe it.

Roark working for the Galactic Healers had been shocking enough.

But to know that Nova had joined them, too?

Had she really wanted to go back in time? Stop Vernia from falling down the stairs? Live a life as a princess in a castle?

"There was a little girl who loved her kingdom very much," Nova said. "And she will do everything it takes to get that kingdom back."

* * *

Maybe it's time, masters and squires, readers and writers, friends and foes, for us to go back in time. Not too far at all – just to Celestic, when November had found Cyrus.

This time, though, I promise to show you _everything. _

"_I can even offer you something," Cyrus said, standing before her, reaching to touch Nova gently on the face. "Join me, November, and I will turn back time. I will find the moment your mother was pushed down the stairs, and I can stop it from happening." _

_Nova almost stopped breathing upon hearing the words. _

_Because if her mother had been saved… If she had never been pushed in the first place… _

"_You could have grown up in a better home," Cyrus added. "A better life. And no knights would every have touched you, November." _

_He said the name like it was a curse. Like it was a spell in itself. _

"_No," Nova managed to mumble. "I don't…" _

"_Then don't think about yourself. Think about your mother." _

"_What about me mother?" _

_Cyrus shook his head, that stupidly sick pity in his eyes. _

"_Have you ever thought about her years of suffering?" he asked her. "Her years of sitting down, doing nothing all day, remembering the dancer she was and the life she could have lived had she never gotten pregnant with you?" _

_The words cut through her heart. _

_Because, he was right. If her mother had never gotten pregnant, she would never have been pushed down the stairs. She could have kept dancing. She _would _have kept dancing. _

_Nova closed her eyes and felt for Rhys and Leila, remembering the Spring Dance. Remembering the way her mother had spent so long staring at the spiralling staircases. Remembering the way her mother's eyes had flashed with regret when she had mentioned her father. Remembering the words her mother always whispered into her ears. _

Dance with the winds, Nova. Dance with the winds…

"_What do you say, November?"_

_Nova opened her eyes and took a long breath. Remembering Barry. Remembering Lucas. Remembering Joy and Bebe and their father. _

_Then, she opened her mouth and gave him her answer. _

"_Aye."_

* * *

**Secret 7: Roark is the one who has been trying to kill Nova. Hinted at… multiple times. Starting in Oreburgh. He is the one who pushed Nova into the trenches. On top of that, he is the one working for the Galactic Healers – and who tried poisoning the legionaries at Byron's gala. He also killed Bebe. **

**And, pseudo-secret which I will call Secret 11: Nova joined Team Galactic in Celestic. Sorry. **

**Please don't stop reading, though! You don't need to trust Nova. You don't even need to trust the narrator. **

**I just need you to trust me. **


	54. Chapter LII

**Chapter XLII**

It smelt like death. Like corpse. Like betrayal.

Galactic Healers were lined up all along their basement in Veilstone, their Murkrow masks in their hands as they surrounded the raised platform. Their leader, Cyrus, was there, with his five chiefs behind him. Mars, Saturn, Jupiter. Roark. Nova.

Barry and Riley were on one side of the platform, bound by ropes and wrapped to a chair. And, on the other end, there were five legionaries – Maylene's dead body, lying on the ground, pale and limp as a ragdoll. Beside them were the four remaining ones – Wake, Candice, Volkner and Fantina. Alive, still, and held tightly in the arms of a group of healers.

Soon, they would be dead. And Cyrus would have everything he needed for the spell. Five dead legionaries, a heart of gold, a mind both young and old, and the will of—

"Soon," Cyrus was bellowing to the healers. "Soon, we will turn back time, and all your promises will be fulfilled. _All _of them!"

They all cheered. And Nova just watched them.

Red-rimmed eyes. Worried glances. Bright grins. About a hundred of them. It was a complete mix of people – all who had lost something, all who Cyrus had hunted _because _they had lost something. He had given them something to do while they were still broken, had given them hope to end all the pain. Just as he had done for her.

"We have our five legionaries," Cyrus told them. "One is already dead, and the other four will be, too. Soon. But first… our will of steel, heart of gold, and mind both young and—"

He was interrupted by Riley, whose chair squealed back as he scowled.

"Father, you must stop this," he hissed. "They're gone. Mother is _not _coming back—"

"Silence," Cyrus snapped. "I thought _you_, of all people, would understand. Your mother would be so disappointed in you."

"Mother wouldn't want to come back. She would want us to move on."

Cyrus rolled his eyes, but everyone could see it – the silent fury in his gaze, the way his jaw clenched at the first stab towards his pride.

Instead, though, the Galactic Leader turned to Nova, his grin sly.

"November," he said. "What do _you _have to say to that?"

"Leave her out of this," Riley called out. "What did you _do _to her? Nova, what did he do to you?"

Barry, beside him, was silent. His head lowered, thinking and thinking. His lips curling into a frown as he realised that, even after eighteen years, he may not have known who his friend was at all.

"I did _nothing _to your girl, Riley," Cyrus said, his voice dangerously low. "All I did was remind her of the girl she could have been had Vernia never had that accident."

Riley's eyes softened. His gaze found his gladiator, searching. Pleading. "Nova…"

"Bebe would be alive, Riley," she whispered. "And my mother would still be dancing."

He didn't say anything at that. But she could see his thoughts in his eyes.

_Traitor. _

"Nova," Barry finally said. "You know Vernia wouldn't—"

"Enough of this," Cyrus interrupted. "Galactic Chiefs – bring me the spirits."

As Saturn moved to the back of the stage, reaching for the brown sack that rattled from the chains inside, Jupiter rolled her eyes.

"Do we need to do this?" the Song Sister asked. "We already know who they are."

"But no one else does," Cyrus pointed out. "Let's show everyone. Mespirit? Our heart of gold?"

Saturn, quiet as always, yanked out the first lake spirit – the one with touches of pink on her head, the one who had tears in her eyes. When he hesitated, though, Mars reached out and pinched Mespirit. Hard.

Instantly, as Mespirit squealed in pain, Riley gasped out. And, as Mars pressed her nails down, sharper and deeper, the lake spirit caved in.

And, before them all, she flashed a little image. A projection in pink, made completely of lights.

A projection of Sir Riley's face.

Nova had to look down as she saw it. It hurt too much to see how different he looked – how happy he seemed in that projection, how loose his grin seemed. She recognised that smile; it was the same one he had shown her when they had been dancing in the rain, when they had first kissed, when he had promised her that happily ever after.

It was like Mespirit was trying to show her something.

And she didn't want to see it.

"My own son," Cyrus said, clucking his tongue as his healers murmured. "And yet, his heart of gold doesn't even want to save his own mother…"

"Because I know the consequence!" Riley snapped.

But Cyrus didn't care. He had turned back to Saturn, inclining his head. "Uxie. The mind both young and old?"

Once again, it was Mars who had to do the pinching. And when Uxie winced, Barry cried out.

Sure enough, lights began sprouting from Uxie's chained arms. Bright yellow, streaming around the basement like rays of light. Swirling and swirling until there was just Barry's face – Barry, just after Nova had tied the scarf around his neck. A kind, understanding smile. Eyes that promised to listen, even when they couldn't see.

"The blind boy," Cyrus mused. "Who knew that a scamp from Twinleaf would turn out to be so wise?"

"Don't hurt him," Nova murmured, softly enough for only those around her to hear.

If Cyrus had heard it, he pretended not to. Instead, he just nodded as Saturn pulled out the final lake spirit – Azelf.

"And now. Azelf, who is the will of steel?"

The pinch came, and Nova felt it in her own arm. Shockingly painful, burning down to her wrist. It took everything – _everything _– she had to not hiss, to not clutch for her arm, to not beg for Mars to stop.

She kept her gaze on her boots, even as the blue light shimmered around her. She didn't want to know which of her faces Azelf had shown everyone.

All she knew was that there would be blood all over it.

The Galactic Healers were now muttering louder, their fingers pointed at her. At the will of steel.

"You know," Cyrus said, silencing them all with a wave of his hand, "the will of steel is known to be Dialga's favourite."

Nova flinched at that. She could have sword that even Darkrai, silent as her shadow, had rippled.

"Most say it's because Dialga himself is made of steel," Cyrus continued. "But I disagree. I think there's more."

He stepped to the side, away from his chiefs and towards Barry and Riley.

"You see," he said, gesturing at Barry, "the mind both young and old knows what is right from wrong. That is what makes them wise."

Barry didn't say anything to that. Cyrus moved away from him, pressing his hand onto Riley's shoulder, even as the knight scowled.

"The heart of gold?" he mused, glaring at his son. "They also see right from wrong, the scrolls say. That is what makes their heart so golden."

Then, Cyrus moved back to the centre, curling his hand around Nova's face. She didn't wince. She didn't even shudder. She just straightened up as he smiled down at her.

"But the will of steel?" Cyrus said. "They can be anything. They don't _care _about wrong and right, nor do they need to know what is wrong and what is right. All that matters is they get what they want." He leaned closer, eyes shining. "Isn't that right, November?"

"Aye."

Cyrus turned away from her, back to staring at his other healers. The hundreds of them lined up, ready to serve him.

"And November wants to start again. She wants to start clean."

As Cyrus said it, he shot a venomous look towards his son. Riley only watched Nova, though, that same hurt spiralling in his eyes. Those same words clear for her to see.

_Traitor. _

_Liar. _

"I want you to prove to me that you are on my side," Cyrus was saying, turning back to Nova.

Nova arched her brow and glanced over at the four legionaries she had brought, who were glaring soundlessly at her. "Bringing the lot of them here wasn't enough?"

"When Roark tried to poison them all, you stopped him and saved them. Even though I needed them dead."

"Because he tried to poison me, too."

Cyrus nodded at that. "Then prove to me now that you are with me. Go and chain the legionaries for me."

"No."

"No?"

Everyone took a sharp breath as they watched the gladiator shake her head. She saw that sick flash of hope in Riley and Barry's eyes, that flash of joy as she stepped away from Cyrus.

But then, with only a few words, she crushed that hope into shards of despair.

"Why ask me to chain them when I can kill them?"

A second of silence. Then, gasps of shock. Mumbles all around.

"You need them dead for the spell," Nova added, hand on sword. "I can do that. Right here, right now."

Cyrus looked almost impressed as he considered it. Then, with a small smile, he stepped back.

"Very well," he said.

Nova could feel everyone's eyes upon her.

It was _worse _than being in an arena. In an arena, everyone just expected her to fight, to spill blood, to kill and protect.

Over here, she could see people waiting for a trick. Waiting for her to turn on Cyrus.

Nova moved over to Fantina first, who was struggling against the hands that held her still.

She still looked ridiculous in the armour Nova had forced them all to wear. No more click-clacking heels and shimmering gowns, no more fur robes, and no more sly grins.

Just a woman with her niece. Years of hate between them.

"You tried to kill me," Nova said.

"I—"

"You tried to kill me before I was even born. True, or no?"

Fantina lowered her head. "True."

"_You _are the reason I am like this," Nova hissed. Louder. Fiercer. "_You _are the reason I'm doing this. Do you understand?"

Her aunt only glowered. "Byron would be ashamed of you."

"Byron wouldn't be trapped in the Distortion World if things had been different."

"You're a filthy little—"

Nova moved swiftly, her black sword scything out of her belt and stopping at Fantina's throat.

"And when I go back in time to change things," the gladiator said, "you best believe that I'm going to push _you _down the fucking stairs."

Then, Nova plunged her sword into Fantina's leather breastplate and the heart beyond.

Galactic Healers roared while Fantina clutched her skewered chest and toppled to the floor, the blood spraying bright and red.

Nova moved in a blur, kicking aside Fantina's body and moving for Volkner.

"And you," she told him, her smile almost pitiful. "It all started because of you, didn't it? When you stepped on my birthday cake?"

His face blanched. "Get away from me."

"That cake was all the good I had."

"Killing over a cake feels a bit childish, does it not?"

"Then consider me a child."

And, with no mercy, with no _fear_, she plunged her blade under the legionary's spaulder and up into his back.

Blood. Gushing from the wound. Glinting on the girl's black steel. Shining in her eyes as more healers roared at the sight of Volkner crashing to the floor.

Something was happening to Nova, too. Everyone could see it.

The shadows were crawling up from her feet, swathing her skin with black splotches. It was like her body was half-flesh, half-shadows. Everything was turning as dark as her hair, as dark as her blade, as dark as the shadow that consumed her.

Fearlessness.

Vengeance.

Becoming the Daughter of Nightmares.

It was painfully addictive.

She turned to Candice, whose eyes were on Maylene's body.

"I'm sorry you lost Maylene," Nova said softly.

Candice didn't even glance at her. "No. You're not."

"We can bring her back, though. We can—"

"Fuck you."

With no words left to say, Nova swung that dark blade of hers in an overarm strike, the steel whistling as it came. And soon, the swift strike sent Candice onto her knees, hands to her chest, blood welling between her fingers.

"No," Riley croaked out. "_No_."

Nova risked a glance towards him. Instantly regretted it as she felt those words again. Stabbing at her own heart.

_Traitor. _

_Liar. _

_Killer. _

But Darkrai ate away that fear, that worry. And she turned back to Wake, who was sobbing as he whispered his final prayers. Prayers about Lady Spiral, about their unborn child.

When he was done, he looked at November. Shook his head.

"Good luck, November," he told her.

Because they both knew this had been coming. After being born a bastard child, after years of clawing her way through scraps for survival, after months of being thrown into arenas and fending for her life, after weeks of being lied to, after days of realising the strength she had—

A killing machine. That's what she had been born and raised to do.

That's what the world had _forced _her to become.

Nova kicked out at Wake's legs, sending him onto his knees as the Galactic Healers released him. Then, as the other healers roared, she spun around to his back, her long hair streaming behind her, plunging her sword past the collar of his breastplate and down into his spine.

Wake's face twisted in agony, a gout of glittering scarlet spraying from where her blade came out. He fell forward, red spilling across the ground, Cyrus clapping in delight.

"And you too," Nova whispered, to no one in particular.

* * *

Nova stood alone for a long time, staring at the four pools of red.

Everyone else was beginning the journey to Mount Coronet, gathering their packs and saying final farewells to the world they stayed in. Cyrus was having a final glance over his spells, and the chiefs and Roark were preparing the chains. Nova had commanded most of her Pokémon – her Infernape, Luxray, Roserade, Staraptor and Gabite – to take the five dead legionaries to Mount Coronet for the final spell.

Only Saturn remained with Nova, Azelf, Mespirit and Uxie chained beside his feet as he leaned to the side and threw up.

Wake, the Pastoria legionary. That had been the man who had pulled out his tongue. That had made him lose his speech. That made him join Cyrus in the first place.

But seeing Nova murder him like that hadn't made Saturn feel better.

Seeing her murder the way she did, with not a flicker of guilt in her eyes, made him feel sick.

She was watching him, her Gastrodon reflecting that same blankness, that same hint of nonchalance.

"What did you want to be?" she asked him.

Saturn pulled out his board from his belt, along with the chalk, and wrote. Darkrai read it aloud.

"…_an actor…" _

"And what stopped you, Saturn?"

The Galactic Healer pointed at the lips that veiled his tongueless mouth.

"I see."

Then, November pointed down at the pools of blood.

"And is _this _what you wanted?"

He shook his head.

It was far from what he had wanted. Far from it. He had known there would be death, but to see it so close, to see it happen with such callousness and coldness—

"Then go," she told him. "Escape. Release the lake spirits and get the hell out of here."

Saturn stared at her, bewildered. She just shrugged.

"And after a week," she added, "if this world is still here, use that board of yours to write a play where the hero can't speak. Show it to the pirates. Give them a play you can star in. Aye?"

In all truth, he was too scared to shake his head or scowl at her. Not after seeing the way she had so easily slipped to becoming a murderer.

So, he leaned down, ripped out the keys, and undid the chains.

None of the lake spirits moved, even as he tossed the red chains away from them and stood. Even as, with one last smile from November, he was sent running out of the chambers.

To write his own play. His own story.

One that he could and would star in.

The second he was gone, Nova let that demeanour drop. She clutched at her face, breathing hard, shaking as her knees buckled and Owl caught her.

And, as Darkrai left her shadow, she felt it. The fear. Eating away at her skin. Tearing away at her heart.

"…_hello, you three…"_

The three lake spirits squealed and threw their arms around the Legend of Nightmares. Even Nova closed her eyes and managed a grin.

"You've been awfully quiet, Darkrai," she said.

"…_there isn't much left to say, is there?..." _

"No. There isn't."

Azelf gave her a pointed look. A small grin. A brief wink.

And Nova raised a finger to her lips.

_Shh. _

* * *

Tric placed Fantina's body ever-so-gently along the stone floor.

They were just beneath Spear Pillar, with Galactic Healers marching past him and up the crumbling staircases of stone. They were all in nothing but their cloaks and masks, though the Pokémon marching with them – Drapions, Dustoxs, thousands and thousands of Golbats, looked ready to kill with their own claws and fangs.

The five legionary bodies had to stay just beneath the pillar to summon Palkia. That's what Cyrus had told them.

For now, though, while the Galactic Healers' footsteps rang around them, Tric glanced over at his companions.

They all looked so calm, except for Tatiana, who was trembling as she lowered the body of Candice onto the stone. The poor Gabite had only joined them in Canalave – not too long after Nova had first joined Cyrus. And yet, though they had told her everything, she was still shaking. Terrified of making a mistake. Of damning them all.

It didn't help that Rhys kept growling at her when she so much as stumbled.

They all needed to be careful, aye. But they needed to look out for another.

Tric went up to the Gabite.

All of them had come up with a code. A series of blinks.

He blinked once. _Are you okay? _

She blinked back. One blink. Two blinks. _Aye. _

He reached over and squeezed her arm. It wasn't part of their blink code, but he knew she would understand. _You'll be okay._

She blinked back twice again. _Aye. _

Then, he moved towards Rhys, who had just finished laying Wake on the stone.

He blinked once. _Are you okay? _

Rhys, who much preferred scowling to blinking, gave a low snarl. _Piss off. _

With a grin, Tric reached out and squeezed his paw. _You'll be okay. _

And then, to his surprise, Rhys blinked twice.

_Aye._

Next was Bailey, who was frantically flying over Maylene's body.

Tric blinked at him four times. _Are you scared? _

Two blinks in return. _Aye. _

And so, the Infernape placed a gentle hand over his first companion's wing. The one that bad been broken. Squeezed it ever so gently. _You'll be okay. _

Finally, he moved to Leila. The Roserade was watching him with cautious eyes, Volkner's body beside her.

Before he could say anything, Leila blinked. Four times. _Are you scared? _

Tric blinked – once, twice, three times. _Nay. _

The Roserade snorted. Then, she blinked five times. _Liar. _

Tric still refused to let that one be part of the code. So, he turned away, only stopping when Leila squeezed his arm with her vine. Just as he had done with the others moments ago.

_You'll be okay. _

Then, Leila took her second vine and wrapped it around his other arm.

Another code. One that made him smile.

_We'll be okay. _

* * *

Only a few healers remained in Veilstone with Nova. Though she hadn't heard Cyrus say anything, she suspected he had asked them all to keep an eye on her as she moved past the cots and into the cellars.

She needed to speak to Barry. To Riley.

But she couldn't. Not with all the healers gazing at her through the slits of their Murkrow masks.

She would try, though. Try to get them to understand.

She found Riley's chambers first. He was slumped against the wall, eyes trained to the floor beneath him, to the chains hugging his ankles and wrists.

"Riley?"

He didn't say a word to her. Even as she pried open the cell door and stepped in.

"Riley."

Again, the silence. From behind her, Nova heard the two healers snort while Owl made a small, despairing sound.

She didn't care, though.

Falling to her knees, she reached for his hand.

"Riley," she whispered. "Just look at me."

"Get away from me."

Those were his first words to her. And they hurt – they _hurt_ like a stab to her guts.

"Please, Riley—"

"I don't want you to come near me," he said, yanking his chained hands away from her. "Not in this life, not in another."

Nova just stared at him.

Arceus, she deserved that. She deserved worse than that. And maybe, if those damned healers weren't watching her like bloody shadows, she could have said something to change his mind, to make him _understand_—

With her heart heavy, she sighed.

"When I go back in time, I'll make sure you find yourself a better lass," she told him. "One that can love you without doing this to you."

"You know that won't work."

"No?"

He gave a cold, fake laugh.

"That's the shittiest part about all of this, isn't it?" he said. "I know that, no matter how you change the past, you and I will somehow meet. Somehow. Somewhere. And every single time, I will fall in love with you. Again and again and again."

_Again and again and again…_

Nova didn't realise she had begun to cry. It was only when Riley glanced up sharply at her face, that flash of guilt in his eyes as he watched those tears slip down, did she hear her own pathetic sobs.

"Nova," he whispered. "I'm—"

He was going to apologise. She knew he was going to apologise.

And she didn't want it.

So, before he could finish, she jumped up on her feet and stormed out of the cell. Ignoring that stupid laughter that echoed behind her as the Galactic Healers locked the cell for her.

* * *

She was still brushing away the last of her tears as she slipped into Barry's cell.

"Barry?"

He tensed up, frowning as the chains dug into his skin. "Nova?"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Not as much as you hurt us."

Again, that stab. That pain.

"Barry…"

She stopped and took a long, shuddering breath.

There was so much she needed to tell him. So much she wanted to tell him.

But the Galactic Healers were still behind her, waiting. Listening.

"Nova," Barry suddenly said. "What's that colour you used to tell me about? The one that was like burnt bread? Despair?"

"Black."

He nodded slowly. "Is that the colour of me scarf?"

"No."

"Well, is that the colour of yer heart?"

"What?"

The boy was shaking his head, his lip trembling, his hands shaking. "You killed them, Nova. Our friends. Candice, Wake…"

"Barry—"

"I didn't want to believe the sounds. But I had to believe the smells."

Nova felt her heart race at that.

Maybe, just maybe—

"What did it smell like to you?" she asked.

He arched his brows, but nonetheless, shrugged. "Steel. Blood. Except the blood smelt different to normal. It smelt more like—"

Nova cut him off quickly, saying, "I guess legionary blood smells different, doesn't it?"

The blind boy frowned again. Thought about her words. Thought about the fact that she had to interrupt him.

Then, he grinned.

"Nova, you sly little shit."

* * *

**0.0**


	55. Chapter LIII Part 1

**Chapter LIII **

_A will of steel, a heart of gold_

_A mind both young and old… _

They all knew it was coming, and yet, the hundreds of Galactic Healers standing in rows across Spear Pillar were still crying out, were still feeling their hearts pounding frantically, were forcing their teeth to stop chattering behind their blue lips.

Nova, herself, just wrapped her arms around her, the snow sinking through her tunic as it fell.

And, beneath her, the ground was screaming.

Everyone was lurching and stumbling back, staring helplessly at the pillars around them that seemed ready to smash from the tremors.

Only Cyrus remained still, his voice hardly shaking as it echoed with the rising sun.

_A ring of death – no pulse, no breath_

_Of champions both brave and bold… _

And, with tears in their eyes, with fear ringing in every heart except Nova's, Dialga began to materialise.

His diamonds gleamed in the light, violet streaks shooting through them. Sharp and cold as icicles, ready to rip through all the armour the Galactic Healers wore. It tossed its tail once – quick and swift, smooth and fluid, and yet enough to make everything shudder and rumble. Enough to make people scream as it stretched out and glared.

Oh, Arceus, he was _huge. _Five times the height of her – more, maybe. It felt like more.

Because the _power _– the raw, pulsating power was almost enough to make Nova fall to her knees. She could already see some people doing exactly that, whispering their prayers, tears slipping down their cheeks as the Lord of Time hissed at them all.

With every breath he took, with every slight movement he made, the air seemed to turn.

Power. So much of it.

In such filthy hands.

Nova turned to Cyrus, who was grinning at the orb between his fingers. She hadn't seen the orb materialise there – she could only suspect it had happened at the same time as Dialga.

"Remain still," Cyrus told Dialga. "Do not move."

Dialga looked like he would much rather chew Cyrus' face off.

But, with the Adamant Orb in the man's hands, Dialga was completely, utterly helpless. He could only growl once as the Galactic Healers tossed their red chains over him, most of them scrambling back as soon as the chains were out of their fingers.

Nova just watched, her half-brother beside her, feeling Darkrai murmur softly at the sight, Riley and Barry on completely different corners of Spear Pillar.

She was keenly aware that people were staring at her, especially as Dialga turned his eyes to her. Those eyes – bloody hell, those _eyes. _Endless pools of red, streaked with fury and wisdom and determination. Locked on her.

But when those eyes settled on her, there was no simmering anger. There was no disappointment. Not even a flicker of annoyance.

He looked at her in the same way she looked at him. A little glimmer of hope. Of amusement.

Of familiarity.

"…_I KNOW YOU…"_

No one heard it but the girl and the shadow. And yet, she had the courage to part her lips and mouth her own few words.

_I know you, too. _

Because she did. She felt his presence like a layer of warmth amidst the soft, drifting snowflakes.

They had met before now.

They had met, even before he had asked her to save Darkrai in Canalave.

Somehow, when she had sliced her palm beside his statue, something had happened. She didn't know whether it was her blood falling on the engraving of his name, or something more.

But he had been watching her for a long time. He had sent Darkrai after her.

For this moment.

"I've checked," one of the Galactic Healers was saying, panting as they darted up to Cyrus. "The five legionary bodies are in position in the floor beneath us. Byron's daughter hasn't betrayed us."

Cyrus nodded, but his eyes remained trained on the sphere in his hand. The control.

The dead legionaries were in place. All he needed to do was sing the second part of the spell, retrieve the Lustrous Orb with Palkia. Then, it would begin – the journey to the past, the undoing of all his mistakes.

"I'm surprised you joined us," Roark murmured to Nova, tilting his head as he smiled. "I never thought that you'd join the Galactic Healers."

"Why?" she asked.

He gestured over at Riley and Barry, who were bound by ropes in their corners of the triangle. Then, he gestured over to all six of her Pokémon – all of which were staring at her, watching her along the outskirts of Spear Pillar. "I thought you liked them too much."

It was true. Once she went back to the past and saved her mother's fall—

She may never have found herself in Twinleaf. She may never have met Barry or Riley or any of her Pokémon. Or maybe they would have – maybe, in some sick and twisted way, they were always destined to meet. Just as Riley had said.

Shrugging away the thoughts, keeping her face as expressionless as possible, she turned to her half-brother and arched her brow.

"You knew I was working for Cyrus," she said flatly.

He nodded. "He told us straight away – as soon as you let him escape in Celestic."

"But he didn't tell me that _you _were working for him."

"That's because we didn't trust you," Roark pointed out, rolling his eyes. "How could we?"

But Nova only frowned, adding, "If you had known I was working for Cyrus, why did you try poisoning me at Byron's gala?"

"It's complicated."

"Bullshit."

He laughed a little at that, then leaned in that little bit closer.

"You want to go back and stop your mother from being pushed down the stairs," he whispered. "I want to go back and stop my father from ever meeting your mother. Can you see the problem?"

Nova felt her eyes go wide.

"…_well, he did say it was complicated…" _

"Father threw away everything," Roark continued, his voice rougher, sharper. "His crown _and _my crown, just for your mother. And I can't let that happen. But I'm guessing that's not what you want, is it, sister?"

"I would bloody like to be born, for sure."

Roark sighed. "Then I guess we both can't get what we want."

She turned on him, hand already on her sword, her lips curled into a scowl.

"I've done more for Cyrus," she hissed. "_I _killed the four other legionaries. You only killed—"

She was cut off as Roark snatched the blade from her hand and stabbed it into her heart.

"Dialga is here," Roark spat. "There is no need for the will of steel now."

But, even as the sword slid further into her heart, Nova didn't flinch. She didn't groan. She didn't make a single sound, nor did she fall to her knees, nor did she feel blood spurt out of her chest.

Because her blade had turned black.

Roark took a sharp breath as Nova laughed at him, as she wrapped her hand around his and slid the sword straight out. Not a single wound on her chest, not a single tear through her tunic.

"By Arceus," he hissed. "What—"

"My sword is black, Roark," Nova cut in, tightening her hand around his.

"What the hell does that—"

"It's made of shadows."

"…_and shadows can't hurt anyone…" _

For a moment, the Oreburgh Legionary looked paler than the snow beneath them. He stumbled back, his hand no longer on her sword, his eyes wide.

"But when you killed the legionaries, your blade had been black," he was saying. "I thought Darkrai had possessed you, but…"

"But the truth?" Nova interrupted.

"…_the truth is that we do love ourselves a good show…" _

Then, even with prying eyes all around her, Nova watched as Bailey the Staraptor swooped down and clawed at Roark's face. Scratching and scratching, making him wave frantically at his face, making him tumble backwards until—

Until he fell down the bloody stairs that had brought them up to Spear Pillar.

A few Galactic Healers that had been staring at her watched the boy scream, their own mouths agape.

"He tried to stab me first," Nova snapped at all of them. "Focus on the spell."

Then, with a brief wink towards Bailey, she ran down the stairs and found her half-brother.

He was bleeding from his mouth, a few of his bones probably broken as tears streamed from his eyes.

The boy who had killed Bebe. Who had killed Maylene. Who had tried to kill _her. _

Even though his every breath sounded pained, he was glaring at her.

"I'd kill you now," Nova told him, shaking her head as she stared down at him.

He spat blood at her boots. "Then kill me, you fucking coward."

"No."

"No?"

She smiled at him, before turning up towards the stairs, her Staraptor balancing gently on her head.

"You're not mine to kill, Roark."

And she left her brother to die.

* * *

_Three souls alive, five souls dead_

_And one ready to create the end…_

Cyrus was shaking. His every bone, his every muscle, his every hair was singing with his voice – humming their own tune of regret, of misery. Of _want. _

Galactic Healers were muttering something around him. Saying things about Dialga, about the spell, about the glimmering blue orb in his hand. There were even soft murmurs about November and Roark, something about stairs and a Staraptor, about a stabbing and shadows. But he didn't care about either of them.

He would have his wife back. His beautiful wife and their little girl.

And, most importantly, he would prove to the world that he _could _change the world. That he, Cyrus, a plain bloke from Canalave could spin the gears of time, could change all their fates, could ruin the lives of all those who had laughed at him for having his nose stuck in those 'stupid and superstitious books'.

Two more lines of the song. Then, Palkia would arrive. The spell would be complete.

_Oh, adamant, oh, lustrous, come to Spear Pillar…_

The five dead legionaries were in place. All he needed were his own, final words to this world.

_For the final roar of time…_

Dialga was watching him. Unable to move. Unable to make a sound because of the orb in his hands.

_The final special rend… _

He waited for the tremors. The dancing of the pillars, the crumbling of the stone.

But there was none.

The air was still, and the healers around him turned silent as they waited expectantly.

But no pink orb arrived.

No Palkia materialised.

Cyrus frowned.

The spell was correct. He was _sure _it was correct. It had, after all, brought Dialga to him.

And the legionaries were in place. He had marked the spots himself, and his healers had checked that the corpses were there just moments ago.

Which could only mean—

The legionaries.

They were _alive. _

* * *

"I bloody _hate _the smell of Bibarel blood."

Wake rolled his eyes as he sat up, stones leaving scratches along the armour. "I should have asked for Kricketune blood just for you, dear Fantina."

"The smell is the least of our worries," Volkner pointed out. "What matters is we're alive."

Fantina scowled at him as she staggered to her feet, hissing as she dusted the armour. It was far too big for her, and she could hardly move in it, but November had been right – the armour was the best way of hiding the bags of Bibarel blood, and to cover their beating hearts.

"That wench actually did it," Fantina finally said, sighing. "Faked all of our deaths."

Volkner ghosted a smile. "Aye. I suppose she did."

They turned to Wake, but the pirate had his eyes on the Snowpoint legionary, who was stood on her own. She was staring at the one legionary body that hadn't risen, the only one that was well and truly dead.

Maylene.

"Candice?" Fantina called out.

Candice took a long, shuddering breath. "She would have loved this. She would have called this fun."

"Oh, Candice…"

The soft words had come from Wake, who was slowly reaching out for the younger girl with his arms outstretched. Candice fell into his arms, her sobs tinkling softly against the low tremors around them.

"I miss her," she said. "I miss her so much."

Wake ran her hands through Candice's hair. "We all do."

Even Fantina and Volkner had softened for a moment, exchanging a glance. They all knew they had to hurry – they could hear the pillars above collapsing, could hear the screams and the crumbling stone.

Nova had told them that Dialga would appear. That was supposed to be their signal.

But they waited for Candice. Waited for her to straighten her shoulders and rub the tears from her eyes.

"Let's go," she finally told them, voice sharp. "Let's kick some Galactic Healer arse."

* * *

"What have you _done_?"

Nova only smiled innocently as she reached the top of the stairs, all eyes on her. Cyrus was growling, his face mottled red, his fingers twitching against the blue orb in his hand as he moved closer.

"_What have you done_?"

This time, the gladiator winced. "Why is that, whenever something goes wrong, the blame comes straight to me?"

Cyrus only scowled, turning his head to glance over at the Galactic Healers scattered across Spear Pillar.

"Kill her," he spat. "Kill her, and kill the legiona—"

And that's when the legionaries darted up the stairs, living and breathing, their faces alone enough to make Nova feel as if she were no longer rooted to the ground. The pillars trembled with each of their steps, and for a moment, as she saw Fantina call for her Gengar and Candice slip a dagger from her belt, the gladiator just closed her eyes and listened.

The song of murder. The verse of steel on steel. The percussion of hooves. The chorus of blood-thirsty Galactic Healers, skipping up to meet each legionary.

And, as she saw her own Pokémon rush forwards, Rhys's claws and Tatiana's fangs shredding through the healers, Nova felt it – felt it for the first time in a long time – on her shoulders.

"Fear," she whispered, down to her shadow.

"…_there's too much for me to take away…" _

Nova clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking. Reminded herself of who she was, where she was, and everything that would come undone if she failed.

And she ran into the bloodbath.

She moved for the smallest Galactic Healer she could find, skipping under his broad, scything blow and slipping inside his guard. Then, she was smashing aside the sword with her own, kicking him aside, raising her blade at the man bellowing and running at her whistling steel.

Her blade didn't even skewer his chest. It was Volkner who had killed him, who had stepped before her, his dagger buried beneath the Galactic Healer's shoulder, the blood a scarlet waterfall.

"Don't die before I can kill you," the legionary muttered, glancing slyly back at the gladiator.

Nova only smiled.

Then, she moved away from the belly of the bloodbath, and straight towards the corner where Barry remained bound by rope. Through the corner of her eye, she could see Tric move over to the other corner where Riley lay, burning through the rope with his tail.

"I knew it!" Barry was saying, laughing as Nova sliced through the ropes bounding his wrists. "I bloody _knew _it! I really thought for a moment that ya really did wanna turn back time."

"Turn back time?" Nova mused. "And miss the chance to make you kiss rotten cheese for seven minutes?"

"Eight minutes."

Nova grinned, and reached down to plant a soft kiss in his hair. "I would choose being your friend over being a princess any day, Barry."

"Oh, come 'ere, you sop."

A shadow fell over them as they held each other, breathing in the sweat and fear and that familiar stench of garbage that they had carried from Twinleaf. And, as Nova peered over his shoulder, she found Riley staring at her.

"How?" he asked. "_How_?"

Nova shrugged, pulling away from Barry and gesturing over to where Dialga squirmed in his red chains, where Cyrus hissed down at the orb in his hands, where Mars and Jupiter ordered healers to surround and kill the legionaries. "It's a long story. And we'll talk about it after we sort out your father."

With a nod, Barry was patting down his britches and searching for his Pokéballs, feet already dragging him to where he could hear the screaming. But as Nova turned to join him, she felt Riley's hand wrap around her wrist and yank her back.

"Wait."

"What?"

He pressed his lips to Nova's, mouth open, desperate.

And before she could even hold him there, he stepped back and grinned.

"You're fucking mad," he finally said. Then, he called out for Barry, and chased his gladiator into the heart of the hell that awaited them all.

Nova lingered back, flushed, her Darkrai chuckling beneath her.

"And I love you, too," she whispered, her words caught in the wind.

* * *

Nova charged without ceremony, and Galactic Healers turned to meet her, steel clashing against steel. Within moments, she saw Leila the Roserade by her side, not using her vines to reach out and tug at anyone's ankles, but instead throwing her roses out and letting pink dust waft from the petals.

It hadn't been a huge burst of sleep powder, not enough to send them dreaming straight away. But as Nova feinted left, she could see the Galactic Healers near her stumbling, cursing as she opened up a deep gouge in one of their thighs with her sword. He lunged, but she slipped sideways, her blows glancing off his shield, his blade knocked from clumsy fingers and sent scattering to the marble beneath them.

Near her, Rhys moved like water, black fur flowing behind him as he battered the charging healers with his claws. He met a thrust with his fangs, a shake of his head sending the sword spinning from its owner's grip and off over the edge of the platform. Just beside him, Tric loosed another flame streaming through the air and striking a clump of the healers.

Fire bloomed, a thunderous boom drowning out the screams. Galactic Healers fell screaming to the ground, wailing over the edge, Owl's teeth flashing and gnashing as mud foamed by her mouth and sent them hurtling away.

Tric's black smoke drifted among the dancing sparks of Rhys's fangs, the stench of burning oil and meat. Another man stumbled towards Nova, but a whistling slash from a Staraptor's claws was enough to open up his windpipe, just as Tatiana ended her foe with a short, deadly scratch to his heart. And despite the carnage, despite the tickles of fear, Nova felt elated, her blood thrilling, her skin prickling.

Breathless. Determined. Searching.

Searching for—

Through the agonising cries splitting the air, Nova saw her. The woman she had been seeking.

Mars.

"Mars!" Nova called out, tightening her grip on her blade and taking a running leap over some Skunktank. "Mars!"

She had to leash her own anger – had to keep it from swelling hungrily in her gut.

Because all she could see was Twinleaf flooding. Glass bursting through the windows, people crying as their homes were gone, her mother buried amidst garbage as water gushed towards her.

Mars glanced over at Nova, jaw clenched.

"November."

They were only a metre away from one another, so close that Nova could have just reached out and stabbed her. But, instead, the gladiator just lowered her blade.

"I thought about what you said," she told the older woman, gesturing down at the britches that hid a certain wooden leg. "About Twinleaf. About how there shouldn't be a place for people like us to rot. And you're right. Places like Twinleaf _shouldn't _exist. We should be living _with _them."

Mars staggered back a bit, brows furrowed behind her Honchkrow mask. Of all people she had expected to agree with her, to thank her for flooding their entire bloody home—

Tric made a cry, and Nova ducked as liquid fire rained down over Spear Pillar. The marble pillars themselves were screaming as they began crashing into the ground, legionaries and healers alike scrambling away as another ball of fire hit.

The ground shook, and Mars stumbled to her knees, Nova almost following.

But the gladiator held on, smoke in her eyes, the stink of burning and sundered guts falling over them.

The fire was getting closer, and only then did Mars realised that the Infernape wasn't spitting fire everywhere – but it had an aim. And that aim was her.

"What are you d—"

Another cry from the Infernape, and there was fire lashing out at her. Embers clinging onto her boots, her britches, clawing up as she spluttered and choked and _fell—_

Nova didn't say anything as the fire climbed up the fabric of her britches and burnt through, but using the flat of her blade, she patted out the flames on one of her legs only. And she left the other leg – the one with the wooden stump instead – completely untouched, letting the fire eat away at it, claw its way through the wood, and turn Mars' second leg into nothing but a pile of ash.

Mars' scream had been silent, her cries strangled as she watched her wooden leg burn.

"But you were also wrong," Nova whispered, blinking the sweat from her eyes, urging her Gastrodon to wash away the last of the fire. "We shouldn't need to go to them rich folks."

She reached down and offered her hand, hauling the Galactic Healer onto her foot.

"They should come to _us._"

Mars throat felt like dust. "You are a fucking—"

"Tell me, Mars, what do you think would have happened if you hadn't lost your leg in a gladiator game?" Nova cut in. "Do you really think, with all your bleeding fucking heart, that you would have won every single damned gladiator battle after that? Do you really think you would have been queen?"

"I—"

"Look at Dialga. Look at him. And tell me. Do you really think that was the only bloody thing stopping you from being the champion of gladiators?"

Mars didn't want to look at the legendary beast, writhing in the red chains she had helped design. She didn't want to see the pain in its eyes, or the fury in its gaze.

But when she looked at Dialga, she didn't see pain or fury. All she saw was herself.

She saw herself managing to parry away that blade in time, stopping the other gladiator from slicing off her leg. And she _did _win that gladiator match – her red hair was drenched in blood, but she was grinning as she held up a legionary crystal, as her Golbat leaned by her side.

And then—

Oh, Arceus.

Oh, _Arceus. _

Because then she saw herself dangling over the edge of an arena, falling into water, falling into a Steelix's mouth.

She saw herself drowning in churning waters by the sea.

She saw blood spraying as her neck was sliced off by some other gladiator.

Her own death. She kept seeing it over and over and over again.

"Don't you see, Mars?" Nova said softly. "Changing the past won't do _anything_. It'll just delay fate."

And Mars crumpled, there and then, into the gladiator's arms. With a gentle sigh, Nova eased her down the stairs, placing her precariously beside a pillar.

"I'll come back for you," Nova told her. "But only if you want me to."

She left then, and Mars sat there, watching her bloody blade point to the sky.

Thinking about what November had told her. Thinking about what Dialga had shown her.

Behind the Honchkrow mask, no one could tell if she wept.

* * *

The old crone only darted up the stairs a minute later, striding up two steps at a time, her sword wielded and her Garchomp not far behind her. It was difficult to see through the pall of smoke, but through it all – the blood, the steel – she could see him. Volkner. Alive. Wake, Candice and Fantina not too far behind him.

"That mad little thing," she muttered. "She gave us all a mad scare."

Cresselia made a soft chime beside her. _"…Reminds me of someone else I know…" _

The crone chuckled. Then, she tore at her belt, findin her own sword, and ran through the black haze. Galactic Healers instantly moved for her – no doubt seeing her hunched back, the hood that covered her eyes, and thinking her an easy target.

But she moved fast. Hacking, slashing, punching, kicking, through the red sloshes of blood, through the grey smoke, the black masks and the pink scarf-

She froze, squinting through the black haze, watching as a blonde lad fought alongside Nova. The pair were devastating, cutting down all before them and slowly advancing towards Cyrus. But the boy was so peculiar, for even when a body was right before him, his dagger never quite seemed to hit the mark, as if he couldn't—

_See? _

Was the lad _blind_?

She felt a chill in her belly as she caught sigh of the pink scarf around his neck.

For a moment, she waited. And when he was no longer surrounded by foes, she strode over to him, yanked his sleeve, and held him by the shoulders.

"Don't stab me," she immediately hissed as he raised his dagger. "I'm on your side."

He sagged a bit after that, his eyes never meeting hers but staring down at her feet. "Aye?"

"Where did you get that pink scarf?"

"Oh, this lil' thing?" He smiled – a smile that lit up his entire face, making it shine like the silver of his blade. "Me friend gave it to me. Nova."

_Oh. _

The old crone glanced back at Nova, who hadn't even noticed her. Then, at the boy and the scarf. His blonde hair. His shining green eyes.

She had been so sure…

"Are ya gonna keep holdin' me here to smell yer breath, lass?"

The old crone released him, her fingers curled. "Apologies. The scarf… Never mind it. Stay safe, young lad."

She turned and left him there, through the wending pillars, beneath the archways of stone and following the trail of sticky scarlet.

Barry lingered there, thinking of her scent, the way he couldn't quite tell whether she was old nor young from that voice. Then, he called out, "It was also the scarf me mother found me in at her doorstep."

But the old crone was too far gone to hear him.

* * *

Blood on her hands and on her tongue. On her blade and in her eyes.

Nova fought beside a pillar, the stone slippery beneath her. Knots of Galactic Healers hacked and stabbed at the legionaries, at Riley and Barry, at her, steel ringing on steel, cries filling the air.

But more were coming. They had rushed up the stairs, and for what felt like the hundredth time, Nova wondered how the _hell _there were so many mad lads and lasses that were willing to listen to the fool that was Cyrus. She wondered how she was supposed to fight against hundreds of the healers with just her Pokémon, a few legionaries, and her two closest companions. She wondered how none of them were flinching back at the raw power that was the Dialga in the centre.

Because, by Arceus, ever so faintly, beneath the roaring flames, her drumming pulse and her singing blade, she could hear it.

The power.

Beneath that Adamant Orb.

Beneath her very own skin.

Beneath the marble crust over the bones of Mount Coronet.

Nova buried her blade in another healer's thigh, blood slick on her hands.

"Do you feel it?" she gasped it.

"…_the power of time…" _

Twisting and turning, feinting and striking, Nova felled another healer, ducking beneath his strike and slicing his hamstring. She saw a Skunktank charge, but Leila the Roserade locked his ankles with her vines, coiling up his legs, slithering over the bloody fur before flinging him across the pillars.

"Skunktank!"

Nova turned at the familiar voice, freezing as she caught sight of Jupiter – of the pink hair, of that wooden face, those twigs along her brows.

"Don't ruin this for me, November," Jupiter hissed. "Don't you dare—"

And though Nova could feel the simmering rage from the Song Sister, Nova herself felt it within her – twice the will, twice the strength, twice the fury. And she struck at Jupiter, no sense of where her steps and slashes began and ended, her sword slicing the bark across the woman's leg.

Leila disarmed Jupiter with a single thrust of her vines, but Jupiter tackled Nova to the ground, the pair clawing and punching on the red-slicked stone. As Jupiter's hands closed around Nova's throat, she felt her windpipe constrict. Gasping, shocking, she felt the heavy wooden body press against her ribs, heard Leila cry out, heard her sword ring bright as it slipped from her hand and skidded across the stone.

Jupiter's hands tightened on Nova's throat. She dragged the gladiator by the hair, slamming her fist into her head, and by Arceus, she couldn't see or breathe or even reach out across the stone for her fallen blade.

She could only cry out as Jupiter slammed her head into the ground again, again, again, tears burning in her eyes as she saw Leila try to pull Jupiter away—

And air. She could feel air.

Because, when she glanced up, she realised that Jupiter's face was no longer there. It was just a wooden body, with a single, wooden head rolling across the ground, twigs sticking out from the neck, sap bleeding down the blade that had sliced it cleanly in two.

And the person holding the blade—

Gardenia held out a hand to Nova.

"Been a while, hey?"

* * *

**I know this is an AWFUL end to the chapter, but I didn't want to post the whole thing because it's over 10,000 words LOL. Thank you everyone for your patience - it's been a hard few weeks, but I'm back again and this story isn't going anywhere until I type out the words 'THE END'. 3 **


	56. Chapter LIII Part 2

**Chapter LIII [Part 2]**

Gardenia hadn't come alone.

In fact, while Nova wiped the blood from her head, she had to grip onto her Roserade for dear life to stop herself from fainting.

The Song Sister had come with all of her Pokémon from Oreburgh. Every single one of them – from a Chingling to a Pachirisu to the damned Magikarp. All of them, spitting electricity, leaves, gushes of water, fire – anything and everything they had at the Galactic Healers, hurling them over the edges, not stopping for a second.

Among them was Frazer the Onix, a saddle on his back, a woman riding it and grinning brighter than the suns behind the snow.

Vernia.

"You're _here_," Nova managed to mumble as the Onix approached. "You're _here_."

Vernia winked down at her. "No, I'm in the bloody ocean. Now, get up, will you?"

"You're _here_."

"Aye, it's great to see you, too. Now, seriously, get _up_."

Nova was standing, dragging her hands across her cheeks to wipe the tears, still drenched in sweat. Her mother was no longer dressed in rags, but _armour _– the steel helm of a guard, a leather breastplate, those unmoving legs strapped tight to the Onix's stone body.

"What are you doing here? You should be…"

Vernia snorted. "At home? Somewhere safe?" There was a glint in the older woman's eyes – wicked excitement, shining nervousness. "Don't be daft. Even Lord Backlot came."

Then, she snapped the reins, sending the blind and deaf Onix bouncing across the cobbles and off through the pillars. Nova tried to follow behind her, but she found that her hands were shaking, her knees were weak, the adrenaline soured in her veins.

"Don't be afraid for her," Gardenia murmured behind her. "All will be well."

Nova looked the Song Sister up and down. "How do you know?"

Gardenia turned her eyes towards Cyrus, towards Dialga.

"The songs never lie."

* * *

"Stinking whoresons! Do you know who we are?"

Lord Backlot almost flushed bright red as the pirates behind him screamed it out – the jeers, the curses, the retorts that were supposed to be witty. He had thought it would have been a good idea to summon the pirates to help, but now—

He could see the ten or so pirates circling around Galactic Healers, clad in dark leather and feathered caps. One had landed a dagger in a healer's throat, scarlet bubbles bursting from their lips, the pirates howling as if it was the funniest joke.

"You shouldn't be here, old man," someone said softly behind him. "Not unless you're armed."

Lord Backlot turned, smiled at the sight of Candice. Then, pulling out his crossbow, he crouched low by the pillar. An arrow, a snap of a bowstring, the soft whispering of the wind, and—

One Galactic Healer screamed as she fell with a burbling gurgle, fingers twitching. Then went another, who had been riding a Rapidash, tumbling off with an arrow in his throat. Another healer tried to give a warning, but Backlot's shot took her in the thigh, and another in her belly. Then, a pirate's blade glittered as it flew out from behind and took the woman's head off her shoulders.

Lord Backlot faced Candice again, a grim smile on his face. "This old man has some tricks up his sleeve, young lass."

For a moment, the young girl only stared.

"Old man, leave the lass alone and fucking _shoot_!" a pirate called out. "You let four get away!"

Raising his bow, Lord Backlot found himself biting back both a scowl and a laugh.

There was something charming about the pirates. Charming about the way they always cheered every shot he made, always snuck glances to make sure he was alright. One even hovered behind him, his foul breath all over Backlot's neck, claiming that he just happened to be there even though Lord Backlot just _knew _there were strict instructions to keep the nobleman safe.

With his eyes narrowed, Lord Backlot shot one more arrow. It sang, pinching through bodies until it found its mark – in the chest of a healer who had been thick in a spar against his son-in-law.

And, across Spear Pillar, Wake gaped at his father-in-law. And when Lord Backlot caught that wide-eyed gaze, he lowered his head in a slight bow and smiled.

* * *

"Roark, are you alright?"

Roark blinked, turned to the girl who had materialised behind him. It was Joy, with a flask in her hand, bright and bubbling like golden wine. His head throbbed as he tried to face her, the pain surging through his blood.

He should have killed that stupid sister of his when he had the chance. He had _tried _– she had avoided the poison in Canalave, had somehow survived Frazer the Onix, had even escaped the Distortion World—

"Roark?"

He snarled. "What?"

"Drink this. It'll help heal your wounds faster."

"And why would you want to help me?"

Joy's eyes darkened, and she gazed down at her lap. "Apologies. I shall leave you be, then. I thought I would offer you some before giving it to November, but—"

Something about that name made his heart still. And before he could even think past the persistent stab in his head, the jangling ache within his bones, he snatched the flask, propped it up to his mouth and drank.

It was sweet, and for a moment, the pain blurred. He could just hear the screaming of those above him, see splashes of blood around him, feel a hand clutch him—

"You know," Joy whispered, "there's a special place in hell reserved for those who murder little girls."

And before Roark could even croak, could even spit, could even reach out and strangle the wench, he felt the blood crawl up his throat.

His death came swifter than he could have hoped for.

* * *

And, just like that, the tides were beginning to shift.

The legionaries alone were a mighty force enough, but with Gardenia lashing Galactic Healers with her vines, with Vernia and the Onix hurling bodies away from the pillars, with even Lord Backlot leading a troop of pirates onto the battlefield, Cyrus didn't stand a chance.

And even without all of that, there was Nova, Riley and Barry.

He could see it, even as he cowered behind Dialga. One of his healers gasping as Nova cracked his skull back into a stone, thumbs pressed into his eyes. Barry, slipping his dagger out from his belt and slamming the blade under another lad's chin. Riley, kicking someone else aside, making them gurgle and topple over with a short manoeuvre of his blade. His own son, not on his side, but—

"Enough," he hissed. "_Enough._"

He squeezed the orb tightly in his hand, watching as the blue light coiled, writhed, clawed in his hands.

"I've had _enough_ of this nonsense."

The Galactic Healers shrivelled away as he glared around, and he watched as the legionaries exchanged grins. Only November stared, eyes narrowed, lips parted.

"Dialga," Cyrus snapped. "Destroy them all. The girl first."

For a moment, Spear Pillar seemed to fade, pale and translucent around him. And, beside him, he could feel the rage and hatred nestled in Dialga's bones, felt it trembling as it tried to resist the command, as its red eyes glared at him—

But it couldn't resist. Not with the orb in Cyrus's hands.

No one moved as the power hummed around them, as those dark eyes burned onto its target. There was blue light shearing though Dialga's crystals, growing into a sphere by its mouth, bigger, bigger, the size of a bloody _body_—

And the beam struck.

It cleaved through the air, tearing past the pillars, over the corpses, with the strength to split flesh and bone as it hurtled straight towards Nova—

And she felt nothing.

Because, of all the Pokémon to jump before her, to use their body as a _shield_, she hadn't expected it to be Owl the Gastrodon.

The slowest of her team. The softest of them.

There was a spray of red as the Gastrodon fell back, rolling into Nova's arms. And, Arceus, for a moment, the gladiator couldn't even hear the blood pounding in her ears, couldn't even hear her own strangled howls as she fell to her knees.

Owl, who had once been a small Shellos.

Owl, who had once pissed herself at the sight of a few embers.

Owl, who had loved her.

More red, more breathless gasps from the Gastrodon before her. She felt the pain herself, one hand holding Owl while the other hand held her own throat, as if she had been dealt the blow herself.

No armour filled with Bibarel's blood now. No ploy. No play.

Owl's blood as real as the snow on her skin.

* * *

Even if Rhys hadn't seen it for himself, he _felt _it in his heart as Nova's scream – raw and choking, thin and gurgled – rattled the pillars around him.

And he charged, lips peeled back in a snarl, ready to find Cyrus, ready to shatter the man's _bones_—

But something moved faster than him.

Tatiana.

She moved like wind, like silver, like shadows. Slipping beneath Dialga's next beam scything towards her throat, the blue light whistling past her skin. Her skin not shining with that familiar, radiating white, but with darkness as she her claws grew larger, as her fangs sharpened. Moving like black ink upon the bloody stone, hate and hunger and sorrow driving her forward, Tatiana was no longer a Gabite.

But a Garchomp.

Cyrus's Pokémon came to meet her, but Tatiana clawed and hissed and tore at each one. A blow to a Weavile's spine, a rush of blood falling onto her, fuelling her fire. Claws grabbing at a Crobat, shredding through its wings, letting blood dribble into little shapes along the ground.

The hunger inside her unsated, the longing even more desperate, the emptiness suddenly and violently filled.

And as Tatiana moved through the endless field of blinding blue, Rhys realised her mistake.

She wasn't going to attack Cyrus.

She was going for the _orb. _

He growled, but either she couldn't hear it or she wouldn't. Because as the Garchomp approached the sphere, she lost sense of colour – no red or blue or gold burning with furious heat. The orb was just a ghostly white, shedding a pale luminance and casting a long shadow across spear pillar.

A scream ripped up and out of Tatiana's lungs, long and thin and keening.

And she used her claws to slap the Adamant Orb out of his hands, and send it rolling, rolling, rolling—

And it fell off the edge of Spear Pillar.

It felt like the sky was crashing close, the cold of the snow bringing burning tears to Nova's eyes. She was on her knees on the bloody stone, people's voices ringing around her, running down the stairs, running _away _as the pillars began to crumble and fall.

Nova sat there, a current dancing on her skin. Blood on her hands. Blood on her tongue.

Her Gastrodon dead on the stone before her.

She hung her head. Gasping. Breath burning in her lungs. Full and empty all at once. Feeling absolutely _nothing _as people yelled at her, tried to tell her to _run_, tried to scream because _Spear Pillar was fucking shattering_—

But Nova just looked up at Dialga.

All the miles, all the years, all the pain.

It was always going to lead to this.

And yet, he was looking at her, his eyes like razors as he glanced down at the Gastrodon.

He was telling her something…

…something about…

And looking down, Nova felt Owl take a thin, rasping breath.

Alive.

_Alive. _

* * *

Everyone else was running.

Spear Pillar was crumbling, with the stone fissuring beneath them and the long marble structures toppling down one by one. Riley was the first to usher people away, his voice echoing across the cave, forcing the bodies to roll and bleed and ripple down the stairs. Even Barry was there, helping Candice and Volkner make their way down the stairs, the crowd rushing down like a wave, the stone beneath them seeming to churn.

Both of them glanced back at Nova, but she only fixed her eyes on Cyrus, Dialga, Tatiana and the edge that the orb had tumbled off.

"Nova," Riley called out. "We must—"

There was a scream, and he turned back down at the stairs. Nova didn't need to look to know what he was seeing.

Dialga was already showing her.

When Spear Pillar fell, Mount Coronet would, too. A landslide to cover all the towns around it – Snowpoint, Pastoria, Hearthome and even freaking Oreburgh.

And if Dialga was crushed beneath it all, frozen because the orb that controlled him was falling down, down, down, about the shatter into millions of crystals—

It was hurting him, Nova realised. It was hurting Dialga to lose his orb – hurting him to know what could and would happen the moment the pillars came tumbling down.

"Nova," Riley was calling out, his voice a thin rasp. "We must get out. Now—"

The legionaries were already down the stairs, no doubt trampling over Roark's dead body. The Galactic Healers that had lived were already darting away from their leader, from their dreams, some of their screams turning into helpless gasps as pillars fell and shattered their bones.

"Nova, _please_," Riley said again, his gaze darting from her to his father to the pillar that trembled just above their heads. "Please."

And finally, with her knees knocking together, Nova stood. Held Owl in her arms, and crossed Spear Pillar.

It took her only a few seconds to reach Riley, a few seconds longer manoeuvre the Gastrodon in her arms and gently press her into the knight's arms.

Then, as Riley's eyes widened in understanding, Nova turned and ran.

"Nova, _no—_"

She didn't care, though.

All she could think about was Dialga, what he was showing her, what would happen to Sinnoh if that orb reached the ground and shattered—

Darkrai had gone silent in her shadow. And even though she knew he was doing his best to drink away her fear, she felt it there, like a warm fire in her belly, crawling up her throat and wrapping around her heart.

Because it was Darkrai's fear, too, that she felt. For if she died—

No.

Not yet.

Nova glanced over her shoulder, watching as Leila pulled Tric just out of reach from a falling pillar.

"Go," she hissed at them. "Go with Riley."

Both the Infernape and Roserade froze.

"_Go_!"

Then came Rhys, who was blocking her path, ready to grab her with his teeth and drag her down the stairs. With a snarl of her own, she grabbed his fur, yanked him towards her, and shook her head.

"You need to get out of here."

Rhys gave a low growl.

"Take Tatiana, and get the hell out of here."

Each word like ice – cold and sharp, cutting straight through the Luxray. And yet, he didn't move.

"Don't be a fucking dolt. You can't do this, Rhys. Get it in your head – _you can't do this_."

Those were the words that did it, that made him lower his head.

Then, with a slow nod, he rushed to Tatiana, grabbed her with his fangs, and dragged her down the stairs.

Nova knew Bailey was flying somewhere high. Probably safe. Hopefully safe.

"…_what it would be to have wings…" _

"I thought you wanted an island."

"…_and island with wings, perhaps?..." _

Nova ignored the tremble in his own voice, that tinge of fear. Instead, she turned to Cyrus – one of the strongest men in Sinnoh, reduced to a beggar, kneeling on the stone as he pleaded with Dialga, as he watched the pillars behind him collapse through the rippling reflections along Dialga's diamonds.

"Get _up_," she snapped at him. "You can't stay here."

He gave her a feverish glance, eyes red. "You _bitch_—"

"You're going to bloody _die_!"

His hair bristled as he pressed his knees and knuckles to the stone, smiling.

"You're wrong, November."

And that's when she heard it – the flapping of wings, the low caws. As the Honchkrow drew nearer and nearer, above the stubborn fluttering in her stomach, Nova felt it.

Hunger.

Want.

The longing of a puzzle, searching for a piece of herself.

_Bloody hell…_

Nova's eyes widened, her mouth dry as ashes.

For she wasn't sure whether she should have been relieved or fucking _scared _when the Honchkrow dropped the Adamant Orb into Cyrus's hands.

For a moment, the world stopped shaking. The pillars stopped shuddering and screeching as they fell.

But Nova's stomach sank as she turned her eyes to the orb. Her heart was thundering, despite all of Darkrai's efforts. Pulse rushing beneath her skin. The thought of what this man could ask Dialga to do was too repulsive, too awful, too horrifying, and a threat was just about to spill from her throat as he opened his mouth to speak—

_Oh, by the shitting shadows…_

"Dialga, I want you to end all of this. Use—"

Mind racing. Heart pounding. Sweat burning. Nova curled her hands into fists and pressed her knuckles to her side as Cyrus stood before her and spread his arms wide, his face upturned to Dialga.

"Roar of—"

And she charged.

* * *

The beam came whistling from Dialga's mouth, slicing through pillars, tearing down stone after stone. Fantina barely had time to shove the other legionaries out of the way as one of the pillars came tumbling down the stairs, barely had time to scream at them to jump aside.

She saw Wake grab Candice by the collar and haul her to one side, saw him yank Volkner with his other hand. She heard a few gurgles behind her as the pillar rolled and rolled and rolled, splattering people to the ground – no doubt, her nephew's body somewhere down there. She saw the blind boy jump aside just in time, the healer girl sobbing as the two of them stood along the edge, the pillar barely scraping past them.

And she, herself, was so close to joining them along the edge, out of the pillar's shuddering path, but the stones were rumbling and it was too close, and she was too far, and oh _fuck—_

A hand grabbed her, just as she felt the heat of the pillar. And before Fantina was squashed by the stone, she was yanked aside, two pale arms clinging to her.

Vernia.

She was no longer riding the damned Onix – the Onix was poised and curled near the bottom, tail ready to smash into the pillar before it went any further down Mount Coronet.

But Vernia…

Arceus, she looked awful. She wasn't standing – _couldn't _stand. She was lying along the stairs, one of her legs twisted in this sick angle, her body so thin that it looked as it would snap, those brown eyes so damned hollow—

The dance in them, gone.

"You know, I've been meaning to thank you," Vernia whispered. "Funny that we're on the stairs now, too. You won't push me off these ones, will you?"

Fantina nearly jerked back at that. "What?"

"Thank you. I'd like to thank you. For sending me to Twinleaf. Because I couldn't have asked for a better place to raise my daughter. I am proud of what she's become."

"What she's become?" Fantina repeated drily. "She burnt down my entire fucking ballroom."

"That's my girl."

It was the dancer's smile that did it for Fantina. That made her crumble.

Because, god, all those years ago, that small shove, she hadn't expected the woman to become _this_—

"You could have joined Cyrus, just like your nephew did," Vernia suddenly said. "You could have gone back in time and made sure I died. Why didn't you?"

Fantina opened her mouth to snap something back, something about killing her fellow legionaries, about the hell they were going through at the very moment just because of Cryus and his mad ploy to turn back time.

But instead, her mouth spoke before her.

"Your face."

"My face?" Vernia repeated.

"It haunted me, Vernia." And there it came – the truth that Fantina had kept buried in her heart, the secret that really, truly, she would have died for. "Your fucking face. Every dream, Vernia, you are there. Every single one. Your face. And when I saw Nova's face at the Spring Dance, too, oh, Arceus, I—"

She didn't want to cry – not here, where she could see Candice looking down at her with wide eyes, where Volkner could probably hear her pathetic sobs from just two stairs above.

"I don't care about the bloody crown anymore," Fantina said. "I just want the nightmares to end."

"They will one day, Fantina. They—"

"_Sir Backlot, move_!"

The voice had ripped out of Riley's throat, and Fantina glanced down.

And oh, Arceus, she wished she hadn't.

For, while Sir Backlot had been trying so bloody hard to dart aside, the pillar-

It rolled right over him.

The spray of blood hit Fantina's face, thick and red, warm on her lips as she screamed. She only saw Backlot for a second, his body on those stairs, dark blood fountaining, his limbs shaped all wrong.

Wake's roar made them all shudder – every healer, every legionary, every Pokémon. And Fantina only closed her eyes as she heard Wake rush to his father-in-law, heard Sir Backlot manage to mumble out a few words—

"Last… request…"

"You can't ask me to leave her, old man. You—"

"Shut up."

Spear Pillar seemed to turn silent as they all listened in, tears in their eyes, breaths in their throats.

"When your child is born… make sure she learns to read and write… tend the gardens…"

A muffled sob from Wake. "Aye."

"But also… spend time with pirates…"

Another sob. Another heart-wrenching groan of agony.

"Make sure they teach her how to be noble… over here…"

The last thing Fantina saw the old man do was touch his heart.

Then, she fell back into Vernia's arms and – loudly and freely – cried.

* * *

Fear bleached Cyrus's face, his eyes wide with horror. A Crobat moved to intercept her, but Nova was quick as shadows, sharp as razors, hard as steel, sweeping aside and shoving Cyrus to the ground.

His hands stretched out as the orb fell out of his arms, and everything slowed to a crawl, the sun pounding on Nova's back, the heat of it rippling on her skin as she reached for it. And, Arceus, when she felt its cool glass in her fingers, she clutched it tight, pulling it close. And rising up on her toes, she spun like a dancer, dark hair streaming, arm outstretched in a glittering arc as she caught sight of Cyrus's blade.

His blade sank into her shoulder, not burying deep, but enough to send her gasping. Her face twisted, pain pulling at her heart, the burning like acid in her veins, her mouth wanting to do nothing but scream as the blade was dragged out of her skin—

It felt like her shoulder had been split. Like her neck had been cut. She could still feel the blade quivering in her flesh, even though it was no longer there, and she was stumbling back as she stared at those eyes, as she could see the blood fountaining from her wound in them—

She still had the orb clutched tightly to her chest.

And like poetry, like a picture, she twisted backwards, over the edge.

And she fell.

What happened after that would be the topic of countless tavern tales.

Some said the girl fell, the orb in her arms, right into the mouth of Mount Coronet, where the wild Pokémon had come to help her. Some said she had hit the water, making her escape through the ocean.

And then there were some – mostly madmen, for sure – that swore by their own mothers that the little slip of a girl, the gladiator wrapped in leather and steel, had stopped time.

One moment, she was falling towards the jagged stones along Mount Coronet, death only seconds away.

The next, she was frozen there, the air no longer moving, Spear Pillar no longer collapsing.

* * *

Nova was still breathing, though. She was still hearing and seeing and smelling.

And yet, she was frozen there, the orb glowing in her hands, her body hovering in the sky. The stone beneath her like claws reaching up. The blood from her shoulder warm as it dribbled down her arm.

Time had stopped.

Just as it had when Darkrai had died. And now, it had stopped for her.

Was it because she had the orb in her hands? Or was there something more?

Nova didn't know. All she knew was that she needed one thing.

"Bailey…"

And, by Arceus, as if the orb itself had heard her, it winked blue light at her.

Within seconds, she heard a familiar caw, felt wings brush against her back.

When time started again, Nova was no longer falling to her death.

She was flying.

Flying back to Spear Pillar.

* * *

No one was moving when she arrived. Cyrus was still there, frozen in place, the blood on his sword not even dripping to the ground. Dialga, though, was following the Staraptor and gladiator with its gaze.

"…_PUT ON QUITE A SHOW, DIDN'T YOU?..."_

Nova would have bowed, had her shoulder not been bleating her with pain. Instead, she glanced down at her shadow.

"Darkrai dying in Canalave. Was that always going to happen?"

"…_AYE…" _

"Did he know?"

"…_i'm right here you know…" _

"…_I DID NOT TELL HIM. BUT I SUSPECT HE KNEW…" _

"He's clever like that."

"…_i am being ignored. a twist…" _

Nova smiled, breathing it in. The staleness of unmoving air, the bitter wind no longer lashing her face. Then, she held the orb out to Dialga, the Staraptor resting on her head.

"You can let time start again," she told him. "All is well."

She couldn't tell if he smiled. All she heard was a bemused hum.

"…_WHO EVER SAID THAT I STOPPED IT?..."_

And as she opened her mouth again, she saw it again – the orb winking at her, blue light flaming up her hands.

Just like that, time had started again.

* * *

Cyrus had only blinked once, and the whole world around him had changed.

The pillars were no longer shuddering and creaking as they leaned down towards the ground. The Dialga was no longer hissing, not with the adamant orb suddenly resting on his head.

And that stupid wench – that little, filthy gladiator that his son had fallen in love with – was no longer collapsing over the edge.

She was standing before him, her sword stretched out at his throat.

"You won't kill me," he said with a snarl. "My son…"

She smiled as his voice faltered. "Aye? What about him?"

"I'm the only family he has left."

"You're wrong."

The cold metal of her blade licked his throat as she pressed it closer.

"He stopped caring about you a long time ago," she told him. "He found a new family on his own."

He expected the blade, then. He expected it to slice through his throat, quick and nimble, his last breath tasting of blood and regret.

So, when he heard the blade clatter against the stone, he gasped sharply.

"Go," she hissed. "And don't let me see your face again."

A second passed, and another.

But, within minutes, the man was on his feet, racing down the stairs.

Nova's knees buckled as she turned back to face Dialga, his bright red eyes staring into her own.

"I suppose this is goodbye, aye?"

"…_INDEED…" _

"Shall I expect to see you again?"

"…_PERHAPS…" _

"Will there be blood?"

"…_ALWAYS…"_

She felt her throat burn as he stood, the adamant orb balanced carefully between his eyes. He nodded once at her, once at the shadow whispering by her feet, and glanced up at the sky.

No one saw him disappear.

Some say he flew into the sky, his tail lashing out behind him. Some say he simply teleported using his powers, moving from one world to the next.

But one madwoman would swear on her grandmother and her grandmother's _grave _that it was simpler than that.

He stopped time.

Made his way out of Spear Pillar.

And, by the time he had let the gears of the clock spin again, he was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Only one lass saw what had happened. A familiar old crone, a Cresselia lingering behind her as she balanced on the remnants of a pillar and stared down at Nova, at Cyrus, at the Dialga that winked away.

"She really did it…" she mused. "She really did. I thought, for sure, she had joined the Galactic Healers but…"

She shook her head again. Cackled, even.

"She bloody did it."

* * *

And there it is, masters and squires, readers and writers, friends and foes. The tale that had begun before November had taken her first breath. The fate that had been awaiting her from the moment her mother fell down the stairs.

The story of vengeance. Forgiveness. Blood.

And hope.

The story of a lass who had wanted to change her name, who had wanted to forget her own past. The story of the gladiator who had fought in pirate ships and arenas alike, who had raised Pokémon by her side, who had found love and laughter beneath all that spite. The story of the woman who had clawed her way to Spear Pillar, who had fought through Bibarel blood and heavy steel, to protect the world she had once despised.

But that's not where it ends, is it?

For there is more to her tale.

"…_for i am yet to receive an island…" _

"Oh, shut up."

So, do not fear, readers and writers, the journey continues.

After all, what good is a kingdom, when there is no king or queen to bear the crown?

* * *

**I won't lie, I'm getting very excited but very emotional thinking about it - the final stretch of the story! Wow. Just... wow. We're almost at the end. One gym, one league... And that's it. Finito. **

**But not just yet! We've got a bit more to go until we get there, and I promise, it'll be just as wild as everything else so far. For now, though, this wraps up Spear Pillar. **

**And yes, no one has died yet in Nova's team LOL. How? I have no idea. Owl _nearly _did, but survived on red before her mud bomb FINALLY hit. **


End file.
